Konstantin Stanyukovich "See. Konstantin Stanyukovich: Sea Tales (collection)

The boat was getting closer and closer.
Both are in the boat! the signalman shouted cheerfully.
A sigh of joy escaped everyone. Many sailors were baptized. The clipper seemed to come to life. There were conversations again.
- We got off happily! said the captain, and a joyful, good smile appeared on his serious face.
Vasily Ivanovich also smiled in response.
- And Zhitin something! .. Coward, coward, but go! the captain continued.
- Marvelous! And the sailor is a loafer, but he rushed after his comrade! .. Shutikov patronized him! - Vasily Ivanovich added in explanation.
And everyone marveled at Proshka. Proshka was the hero of the moment.
Ten minutes later the longboat approached the side and was safely lifted onto the boats.
Wet, sweaty and red, breathing heavily from fatigue, the rowers got out of the longboat and headed for the forecastle. Shutikov and Proshka came out, shaking off the water like ducks, both pale, agitated and happy.
Everyone now looked with respect at Proshka, who was standing in front of the captain who had approached.
Well done, Life! - said the captain, involuntarily perplexed at the sight of this clumsy, unprepossessing sailor who risked his life for a comrade.
And Proshka shifted from foot to foot, apparently shy.
- Well, go and change your clothes and drink a glass of vodka for me ... For your feat, I will introduce you to a medal, and you will receive a monetary reward from me.
Completely stunned, Proshka didn’t even think of saying “glad to try!” and, smiling perplexedly, turned and walked with his duck-like gait.
- Get off the drift! – ordered the captain, rising to the bridge.
There was a command from the watch lieutenant. His voice now sounded cheerful and calm. Soon the retracted sails were set, and five minutes later the clipper was again rushing on its former course, rising from wave to wave, and the interrupted work resumed again.
- Look what you are, a flea eat you! - Lavrentich stopped Proshka, when he, disguised and warmed up with a glass of rum, followed Shutikov onto the deck. - Tailor, tailor, and what a desperate one! continued Lavrentich, affectionately patting Proshka on the shoulder.
- Without Prokhor, brothers, I would not see the world! How I plunged and emerged, well, I think, the coven. You have to give your soul to God! Shutikov said. - I won’t last, they say, for a long time on the water ... I hear - Prokhor is shouting in a voice. Floats with a circle and gave me a buoy ... That made me happy, brothers! So we stayed together until the launch came up.
- Was it scary? the sailors asked.
- How did you think? Still, brothers, it's scary! God forbid! answered Shutikov, smiling good-naturedly.
- And how did you think, brother? the approaching boatswain asked Proshka affectionately.
Proshka smiled stupidly and after a pause, answered:
“I didn’t think at all, Matvey Nilych. I see he fell, Shutikov, that means. I mean, God bless, but for him ...
- That's what it is! Soul in it. Oh, well done, Prokhor! Look, after all ... Smoke some pipes for a snack! said Lavrentich, handing over to Proshka, as a sign of special favor, his short pipe, and at the same time he added a catchy word in the most gentle tone.
From that day on, Proshka ceased to be the former driven Proshka and turned into Prokhor.

1887

Terrible day

I

All black, with a brilliant golden stripe around, unusually slender, graceful and beautiful with her three high masts slightly tilted back, the military four-gun clipper "Hawk" on this gloomy, dreary and cold morning of November 15, 186*, stood alone at two anchors. in the deserted Duya Bay of the inhospitable island of Sakhalin. Thanks to the swell, the clipper swayed quietly and evenly, now pecking with its sharp nose and bathing the stays in the water, now lowering itself with the inspection of its round stern.
"Hawk", which was already the second year in a round-the-world voyage, after visiting our almost deserted ports of the Primorsky region at that time, went to Sakhalin to stock up on free coal mined by exiles, recently transferred to the Duya post from the prisons of Siberia, and then go to Nagasaki , and from there - to San Francisco, to connect with the Pacific squadron.
On this memorable day, the weather was damp, with some kind of piercing cold, forcing the sailors on duty to huddle in their short jackets and raincoats, and the watchmen to run up to the galley more often to warm up. There was a fine, frequent rain, and a gray haze clouded the shore. From there came only the monotonous characteristic rumble of breakers rolling over the shallows and ridges of pitfalls in the depths of the bay. The wind, not particularly fresh, blew directly from the sea, and a decent swell went around in a completely open roadstead, which interfered, to general displeasure, with the quick unloading of coal from two large clumsy antediluvian boats, which rattled and bounced, tied to the side of the clipper, frightening the "groats" , as the sailors of the line soldiers who arrived from the shore in boats called.
With the usual solemnity on military ships, the flag and guis had just been raised on the "Hawk", and at eight o'clock the day of the day began on the clipper. All the officers who went upstairs to raise the flag went down to the wardroom to drink tea. On the bridge only the captain, the senior officer and the chief of the watch, who had entered the watch, remained wrapped in raincoats.
- Allow me to release the second watch to the bath? the senior officer asked, approaching the captain. - The first watch went yesterday. The second one will be embarrassing. I already promised. For sailors, a bath is a holiday.
- Well, let go. Just let them come back soon. After loading, we will weigh anchor. Hope we finish today.
“We have to finish by four o’clock.
“At four o’clock I’m leaving anyway,” the captain said calmly and at the same time confidently and authoritatively. - And then we missed in this hole! he added in a displeased tone, pointing with his white, well-groomed little hand towards the shore.
He threw back the hood of his raincoat from his head, revealing a young and handsome face, full of energy and an expression of calm confidence of a steadfast and courageous person, and, slightly screwing up his gray radiant and soft eyes, with intense attention peered forward into the foggy distance of the open sea, where gray-haired wave crests. The wind ruffled his light blond sideburns, and the rain whipped right into his face. For several seconds he did not take his eyes off the sea, as if trying to guess whether it was about to rage, and, seemingly reassured, he raised his eyes to the overhanging clouds and then listened to the roar of the breakers rustling astern.
- Keep an eye on the anchor line. The ground here is vile, rocky,” he said to the officer on duty.
- Eat! the young lieutenant Chirkov snapped shortly and cheerfully, putting his hand to the margins of the southwest and, apparently, flaunting both the service affectation of a good subordinate, and his handsome baritone, and his appearance real sailor.
- How many chains have been etched?
- Ten fathoms of each anchor.
The captain was about to move off the bridge, but stopped and repeated once more, addressing the stout and squat figure of the senior officer:
- So please, Nikolai Nikolaevich, so that the longboat returns as soon as possible ... The barometer is still well worth it, but, just look, it can freshen up. The wind is right in the forehead, and the longboat cannot be raked out.
- By eleven o'clock the launch will return, Alexei Petrovich.
Who will go with the team?
- Midshipman Nyrkov.
“Tell him to get back to the clipper immediately if it gets cold.”
With these words, the captain stepped off the bridge and went down to his large comfortable captain's cabin. A nimble orderly received a raincoat at the entrance, and the captain sat down at a round table, on which coffee had already been served and there were fresh rolls and butter.
The senior officer, the closest assistant to the captain, so to speak, the "master's eye" of the ship and the high priest of the cult of order and cleanliness, having risen as usual with the sailors, from five o'clock in the morning rushed around the clipper during its usual morning cleaning and was now in a hurry to drink a glass or two as soon as possible. hot tea, then to run upstairs again and hurry up with the unloading of coal. Having given the order to the officer of the watch to collect the second watch ashore, prepare the launch and give him a sign when the people were ready, he hastily fled from the bridge and went down to the wardroom.
Meanwhile, the summoned boatswain Nikitin, or Yegor Mitrich, as the sailors respectfully called him, ran up to the bridge. Putting the outstretched, tarred fingers of his hefty, callused and rough hand to his wet cap knocked down at the back of his head, he attentively listened to the order of the watch officer.
He was stocky and strong, small in stature, round-shouldered old man of the most ferocious appearance: with an ugly, pockmarked face overgrown with hair, with a short-cropped, bristling, prickly mustache, and with eyes bulging out like those of a cancer, over which black tousled tufts protruded. His nose, broken long ago by the marsa-falom, looked like a dark red plum. A copper earring gleamed in the boatswain's right ear.
Despite, however, such a ferocious appearance and the most desperate foul language with which the boatswain seasoned both his appeals to the sailors and his monologues under a drunken hand on the shore, Yegor Mitrich was a simple-hearted and meek creature with a heart of gold and, moreover, a dashing one, who knew his business to the limit. the subtleties of the boatswain. He never offended the sailors - neither he nor the sailors, of course, considered his abusive improvisations an insult. Himself previously trained by beating, he, however, did not fight and was always the representative and defender of the sailors. There is nothing to add that the simple and unassuming Yegor Mitrich enjoyed respect and love among the team.
“The right man is Yegor Mitrich,” the sailors said about him.
Having listened to the order of the lieutenant of the watch, the boatswain rushed skipping to the forecastle and, taking out of his pants pocket the same pipe hanging on a long copper chain, whistled into it like a nightingale. The whistle was energetic and cheerful and seemed to warn of good news. Having whistled and trilled with the skill of a real boatswain who whistled half his long sea service into a pipe, he bent over the hatch to the living deck and, spreading his tenacious, slightly crooked, short legs like a fort, bellowed merrily at the top of his mighty voice, somewhat hoarse and from coastal drinking parties, and from swearing:
- The second watch, in the bath! Longboat, to the longboat!
Following the thunderous cry, the boatswain ran down the ladder and went around the living deck and cockpit, repeating the command and scattering to right and left encouraging energetic words in the most cheerful and good-natured tone:
- Quickly, sons of bitches! .. Turn around like a sailor, devils! .. Don't dig, idols! I suppose they won’t let you take a steam bath for a long time ... By eleven, so that you can definitely get on the clipper ... Get ready in one second, guys!
Noticing a young sailor who did not move even after the whistle, Yegor Mitrich shouted, trying to give his voice an angry tone:
- And you, Konopatkin, that you sat down, exactly a dog's mother, huh? Don't you want to go to the bathhouse, your dog's soul?
“I’m coming, Yegor Mitrich,” said the sailor, smiling.
- I'm going. Gather your giblets... Don't crawl like a louse in a wet place! - Yegor Mitrich scattered the pearls of his wit with general approving laughter.
“Are we leaving here soon, Yegor Mitrich?” the clerk stopped the boatswain.
- Must be today.
- I'd rather leave. Like there's a mean place. No entertainment!
- A dog's place ... It's not for nothing that unfortunate people live here! .. Get out, get out, brothers! the boatswain continued to shout, flavoring his shouts with the most unexpected improvisations.
Cheerful and happy that they would have to take a steam bath in which they had not been for a year and a half, the sailors, without prodding their favorite Yegor Mitrich, hurriedly took out clean linen from their canvas bags, stocked up on soap and pieces of plucked hemp, exchanging remarks about the upcoming pleasure.
- At the very least, let's remember Mother-Rasya, brothers. From Kronstadt itself, they did not take a steam bath.
- That's why there are no baths anywhere abroad, only bathrooms. It seems that brainy people live abroad, but come on! - not without a feeling of regret for the foreigners, an elderly forecastle sailor remarked.
- So, nowhere? asked a young swarthy sailor.
- Nowhere. They live without baths, wonderful! Everywhere they have a bathroom.
- These bathrooms, so that they were empty! put in one of the sailors. - I went to Brest to this very bathroom. One glory is that washing, but there is no uniform washing.
- Is the bathhouse good here, brothers?
- Good, - answered the sailor, who was on the shore yesterday. - A real hot bath. Line soldiers were built; also means Russian people. To them, and to these very unfortunate ones that dig coal, the only consolation is that the bath ...
Yes, life here is hard!
- And their commander, they said, a beast.
- One word - hard labor. And neither you a tavern, nor you women!
- One overwhelmed varnachka is some kind of old one ... We saw ours.
You will see, don't be afraid! said Yegor Mitrich, laughing as he approached. - Do not drink water from your face! Quickly, quick!.. Crawl out, whoever is ready... There is nothing to sharpen the laces for you!
The sailors went upstairs one by one with bundles under their jackets and lined up on the quarter quarters. The senior officer came out and, again repeating the order to midshipman Nyrkov to be on the clipper by eleven o'clock, ordered to put people on the longboat, which was already rocking to the port side with the masts set.
The sailors cheerfully descended the rope ladder, jumped into the boat and sat down on the banks. The senior officer watched the landing.
Five minutes later, a longboat full of people, with sails set, rolled off the side with midshipman Nyrkov at the helm, rushed like an arrow with a fair wind and soon disappeared into the misty haze that still shrouded the shore.

II

In the wardroom everyone was gathered at a large table covered with a snow-white tablecloth. Two piles of fresh rolls, products of an officer’s cook (cook), butter, lemons, a decanter of cognac and even cream flaunted on the table, testifying to the economic talents and thriftiness of the owner of the wardroom, the young doctor Platon Vasilyevich, who was chosen for this troublesome position for the second time. A freshly heated iron stove allowed everyone to sit without a coat. They drank tea and chatted, mainly scolding damned Sakhalin, where fate had brought the clipper. They also scolded the open raid with its swell, and the dog weather, and the terrain, and the cold, and the slow loading of coal. To everyone, from the senior officer to the youngest member of the wardroom, just promoted to midshipman, ruddy and fresh as an apple, Arefiev, this stop at Douai was very unpleasant. Such a coast did not attract sailors. Yes, and what could beckon?.. This unfortunate village was unwelcoming on the bare Jura of the bay, with a dull forest behind without end, with several gloomy-looking barracks, in which fifty people of exiled convicts lived, who went out in the morning to extract coal in a mine arranged nearby , yes half a company of soldiers of the linear Siberian battalion.
When the senior officer announced in the wardroom that the Hawk would certainly leave at four o'clock today, even if not all the coal had been received, everyone expressed their joy on this occasion. The young officers again dreamed aloud about San Francisco and how they would "rub the money" there. Money, thank God, was! During these month and a half of sailing with calls to different holes of our coast in the Far East, with all the desire, there was nowhere to spend money, and there are still three or four weeks to go to San Francisco - you look, and you can lower the entire three-month maintenance, and, if necessary, grab it ahead ... After the hellish boredom of all these "dog holes", the sailors wanted a real shore. They dreamed of a good port with all its pleasures, only, of course, not out loud, and such respectable people as the senior officer, Nikolai Nikolayevich, who rarely went ashore, and if he did, then for the shortest possible time to "refresh" as he said, and the doctor, and the senior artilleryman, and the senior mechanic, and even Father Spiridonius. They all listened with visible attention when Snitkin, a plump lieutenant with juicy, plump lips and small eyes, always cheerful and good-natured, a bit of a liar and a joker, spoke about the charms of San Francisco, in which he was on his first round-the-world voyage, and with with immoderate enthusiasm, characteristic, it seems, of some sailors, he praised the beauty and charm of American women.
- Are they really that good? someone asked.
- Charm! - Snitkin answered and kissed even his thick fingers in proof.
- Remember, Vasily Vasilyich, you praised the Malays to us. They said that they were very good-looking,” one of the midshipmen remarked.
- So what? They are in their way are not bad, these Black Sea ladies! Lieutenant Snitkin replied with a laugh, not particularly picky, apparently, to the color of the skin of the fair sex. - Everything, father, depends on the point of view and the circumstances in which the ill-fated sailor is ... Ha-ha-ha!
“Under all circumstances, your vaunted Malays are an abomination!”

- Look what an aesthetician, please tell me! And, however, despite all your aesthetics, in Kamchatka you fell in love with an assessor and everyone asked her how lingonberries and cloudberries are pickled ... But this lady is all forty, and most importantly - she is a uniform boot! Worse than any Malay.
“Well, let’s suppose ...” the midshipman murmured in embarrassment.
- Yes, whatever you think, my dear, but - a boot ... One wart on the nose is worth something! And yet you sang romances to her. So, there was such a point of view.
- Didn't sing at all! the young midshipman defended himself.
- Do you remember, gentlemen, how we all left Kamchatka with jam? exclaimed one of the midshipmen.
There was a general explosion of merry laughter. They remembered again how, after the three-day stay of the Hawk in Petropavlovsk, in Kamchatka, a stop that excited all six ladies of the local intelligentsia and forced them to reconcile for a while, forgetting their enmity in order to arrange a ball for rare guests, each of the young officers of the clipper in the evening, on the day of his departure from Kamchatka, he brought a jar of jam into the wardroom and put it on the table with a modestly triumphant smile. And it was at first amazement and then laughter when it turned out that all these eight jars of jam, mostly cloudberries, were a gift from the same thirty-year-old lady, who was considered the first beauty among the six Kamchatka ladies. Meanwhile, everyone who received a jar of jam “as a keepsake” considered himself the only lucky person who received such special attention.
- Everyone was fooled by a crafty woman! exclaimed Snitkin. - “You,” he says, “one jam for memory!” And she shook her hands, and ... ha-ha-ha ... Dexterously! At least no one is offended!
After a few glasses of tea and many smoked cigarettes, the senior officer apparently did not want to part with his place of honor on the soft sofa in the warm and comfortable wardroom, especially in view of the lively stories about San Francisco, which reminded Nikolai Nikolayevich, this martyr, of his heavy duties. senior officer, that nothing human is alien to him. But, a slave of duty and a pedant, like most of the senior officers, who, in addition, loved to put on the air of a person who does not have a moment of peace and who - admire! - he must look after everything and be responsible for everything, although he made a sour grimace, remembering what a dirty trick was upstairs, nevertheless resolutely got up from the sofa and shouted to the messenger:
- Coat and raincoat!
"Where are you going, Nikolai Nikolaevich?" the doctor asked.
“A strange question, doctor,” the senior officer answered, as if even offended. - You don't know for sure that coal is being loaded.
And the senior officer went upstairs to “look after” and get wet, although without his presence the unloading went on as usual. But Nikolai Nikolaevich still stuck upstairs and got wet, as if in spite of someone and as proof of how much he was suffering.
In the wardroom, the cheerful chatter of sailors continued, not yet sickeningly tired of each other, which happens on very long passages when there are no new impressions from the outside. Midshipmen asked Lieutenant Snitkin about San Francisco, someone told jokes about the "restless admiral." Everyone was cheerful and carefree.
Only Lavrenty Ivanovich, the senior navigator of the clipper, did not take part in the conversation and sucked on his manilka, tapping with wrinkled bony fingers on the table, far from the good-naturedly calm look with which he did it when the Hawk was in the open ocean or stood still. anchored in a good, protected roadstead. In addition, Lavrenty Ivanovich did not, as usual, purr to himself under his breath old romance and that silence also meant something.
He was a lean, medium-sized man of about fifty, with an open, disposable, still fresh face, a conscientious and pedantic serviceman to the point of scrupulousness, who had long ago come to terms with his eternally servile position as a navigator and a modest career and did not spiteful, as navigators are customary, at the navy. Gray-haired on the sea, on which he spent most of his lonely, bachelor life, he acquired on it, along with rich experience, hardening of character and rheumatism, also that somewhat superstitious, respectfully-cautious attitude towards the sea he knew well, which made Lavrenty Ivanovich very distrustful and suspicious of the insidious elements, which showed him all sorts of views during long voyages.
Apparently preoccupied with something, he kept going upstairs from the mess-company, went up to the bridge and with a long distrustful look of his small, keen eyes, like those of a kite, looked at the sea and looked around. The foggy haze that covered the shore dissipated, and one could clearly see the gray-haired breakers rumbling in several places of the bay, at a considerable distance from the clipper. The old navigator also looked at the inflated pennant, which did not change its direction, indicating that the wind was straight, as the sailors say, “on the forehead”, and at the sky, against the lead background of which blue circles began to erupt ...
- The rain, thank God, stops, Lavrenty Ivanovich! - watch lieutenant Chirkov remarked cheerfully.
Yes, it stops.
In the soft, pleasant bass of the old navigator, there was no contented note. On the contrary, Lavrenty Ivanovich did not particularly like the fact that the rain had stopped. And as if not trusting his keen eyes, he removed the large marine binoculars from the rail and again stared into the blackened distance. For several minutes he gazed at the gloomy clouds hanging over the edge of the sea, and putting his binoculars back in his place, sniffed the air like a dog and shook his head thoughtfully.
- What are you, Lavrenty Ivanovich, looking at everything? .. It seems that we do not pass dangerous places? - Chirkov asked jokingly, approaching the navigator.
"I don't like the horizon, sir!" - cut off the old navigator.
- And what?
- No matter how soon it gets fresh.
- What a disaster, if it gets fresh! the young man said boastfully.
- A very troublesome thing, sir! - the senior navigator remarked impressively and seriously. - If this ferocious northwest roar with might and main, then for a long time, and even then it will not let us out of here ... And I would rather storm on the high seas than here, on this scoundrel roadstead. Yes, sir!
- What are we afraid of? We have a car. Let's breed couples to help the anchors, and jokingly settle down! Chirkov exclaimed self-confidently.
Lavrenty Ivanovich looked at young man with a condescending smile of an old, experienced person listening to a boastful child.
- Do you think "jokingly"? he drawled, smiling. - In vain! You, my friend, do not know what kind of vile northwest it is, but I know it. About ten years ago I was standing here on a schooner ... Thank God, they got out in time, otherwise ...
He did not finish his sentence, afraid, like all superstitious people, even to mention the possibility of misfortune, and after a pause he remarked:
- Let's say, a car, but it would be better to pick up, say hello to the sea! Well, to hell with it, coal! We can get to Nagasaki. This sly northwest rogue immediately pounces like a madman. And how he gets angry before the storm, then it's too late to leave.
- You always, Lavrenty Ivanovich, you see fears everywhere.
- At your age, I didn’t even see them ... Everything, they say, tryn-grass ... I don’t give a damn about anything, I was not afraid of anything ... Well, as I was in trouble, having grown old in the sea, I see ... Do you know the proverb: “God protects and protects ".
Why don't you tell the captain?
- What should I tell him? He himself must know what it is like to defend here in fresh weather! the old navigator replied, not without irritation.
Lavrenty Ivanovich, however, concealed the fact that yesterday, as soon as the northwest blew out, he reported to the captain about the "meanness" of this wind and very carefully expressed the opinion that it would be better to leave here. But the young captain, proud and jealous of authority, who was still amused by the first years of his command and who did not like anyone's advice, seemed to miss the remark of the senior navigator and did not answer him a word.
“And without you, they say, I know!” said the apparently self-confident and handsome face of the captain.
The old navigator came out of the captain's cabin, somewhat offended by such a "cliff", and behind the cabin doors grumbled under his breath:
- Young, in Saxony was not!
- And yet, Lavrenty Ivanovich, you should report to the captain! - said Lieutenant Chirkov, somewhat embarrassed by the words of the old navigator, although he tried to hide this embarrassment in an indifferent tone of voice.
- Why should I meddle with reports? He himself sees what an abomination is here! - Lavrenty Ivanovich answered with a heart.

Konstantin Mikhailovich Stanyukovich

sea ​​stories

© Asanov L. N., heirs, compilation, introductory article, 1989

© V. V. Stukovnin, illustrations, 2011

© Design of the series. JSC "Publishing House" Children's Literature ", 2011

All rights reserved. No part of the electronic version of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means, including posting on the Internet and corporate networks, for private and public use, without the written permission of the copyright owner.

© The electronic version of the book was prepared by LitRes ()

K. M. Stanyukovich

More than a hundred years have passed since the first sea stories of Konstantin Mikhailovich Stanyukovich appeared in print. More and more new generations of children read them and imagined the lapping of ocean waves, the whistling of the wind in the gear, the flooding boatswain's pipes, the clapping of huge sails overhead, dreamed of long-distance sea roads.

Many wonderful sailors first felt drawn to the sea while reading the books of this writer. And the one who, having matured, became a completely terrestrial person, kept in his memory the images of his stories from childhood: simple-hearted selfless sailors, stern boatswains, experienced officers - sometimes sincere and friendly, sometimes arrogant and cruel ...

Meanwhile, the history of the appearance of Stanyukovich's first sea stories is no less surprising than many of his other stories.

Reading descriptions of warm seas, distant harbors, where caimans swim past the sides of Russian ships, shining in the dark with ruby-red eyes, where during the day the rays of the scorching sun dry up a freshly washed deck in a matter of minutes, where ocean waves rise in relentless hurricanes - reading these pages, it is easy to imagine imagine that somewhere out there, in the far latitudes and meridians, Stanyukovich wrote his stories in the hot pursuit of events - so clearly, so clearly captured in them the sailor's way of life, the life of a sailing ship. It is easy to imagine this manuscript laid out on a table in an officer's cabin, where through the half-open porthole comes the enticing aroma of unknown flowers from the shores of a foreign land ... But no, in fact it was not like that. And in order to imagine the situation in which the first of the sea stories were created, we need to travel many thousands of miles from the ocean shores, to Asia, where the ancient Russian city of Tomsk rises on the steep banks of a wide river.

Along its dusty streets, past squat houses cut down from centuries-old Siberian larch, a short, gracefully built man with curly brown hair passed. He either hurried to the editorial office of the local Sibirskaya Gazeta, then to the post office - to receive news from the capital, then to the police department - to register, since he lived here as an exile.

How did his fate bring him to this distant city?

Konstantin Mikhailovich Stanyukovich was born in 1843 in the city of Sevastopol. This city is located in the Crimea, on the shore of a deep bay, convenient for parking ships, and in those years it was the main base of the Russian Black Sea Fleet. The father of Konstantin Stanyukovich was a famous sailor; during the childhood of the future writer, he served as commander of the Sevastopol port and military governor of Sevastopol. The character of the father and the whole household structure were described many years later in the story "Escape", included in this collection.

Kostya was in his eleventh year when the Crimean War began. England, France and their allies attacked Russia, landed troops in the Crimea. The heroic defense of Sevastopol began, which lasted almost a year. The boy became not only a witness to terrible military events, but also a participant in them: he prepared dressings for the wounded and himself delivered them to positions. For participation in the war, he was awarded two medals.

Shortly after the end of the war, Kostya was sent to the Corps of Pages, and at the end of 1857 he was transferred to the Naval Cadet Corps, which trained future officers of the fleet. It would seem that the fate of the sailor was predetermined for the young Stanyukovich. But the fact is that Stanyukovich was a man of ideas. Even as a child, he felt that a decent person cannot exist in peace when people live nearby in suffering and torment. And each has its own face, its own name, its own essence. From a young age, he remembered the cruelty that reigned in the navy and army, learned about the severe punishments that sailors were subjected to for the slightest offense. Today's staunch warrior, brave defender of the Fatherland tomorrow had to meekly endure the bullying of some scoundrel in uniform! .. The boy lived with a spiritual wound and dreamed that he would do something good, something useful for people. And what - he ends up in a school where rude barracks rules reign, where, it seems, everything is done in order to eradicate the bright beginning from the souls of the pupils, turn them into cruel, insensitive military officials, executors of other people's orders. All this was unbearable for Stanyukovich. A training voyage on the ship "Eagle" in the Baltic made a particularly heavy impression on him. The handsome white-sailed ship turned out to be, upon closer examination, almost a prison for hundreds of sailors: cruel feudal customs reigned there and not a day passed without rude abuse, fisticuffs, cruel punishments.

Stanyukovich conceived a bold step: he decided, breaking the family tradition, not to go to the navy, as his father demanded of him, but to go to university. When the father found out about this plan, he was beside himself with anger. Taking advantage of his connections, he arranged so that his son, without completing the course, was assigned to circumnavigate the world on the Kalevala corvette and in October 1860 went to sea. Half the world rounded the corvette under the Russian flag and nine months later arrived in Vladivostok. This journey was subsequently described by Stanyukovich in the famous book “Around the World on the Kite” - perhaps the best of all his works.

In Vladivostok, due to illness, Stanyukovich was decommissioned from the ship and sent to the infirmary. Having recovered, he then continued to serve on several warships, the post "sent according to his rank", as stated in the then documents. The young officer earned the favor of the head of the Russian squadron of the Pacific Ocean, who in 1863 sent Stanyukovich with urgent papers by land to St. Petersburg. Thus ended the three-year voyage of the future writer.

Over the years, a very young man visited different countries, saw a very different way of life, peace and war, endured storms and calms, and closely communicated with simple sailors. Of great importance for the future writing work was the fact that Stanyukovich had to serve on different courts. He saw how the orders differ, the whole ship's life, depending on who is on the captain's bridge - an enlightened, humane person or a rude, cruel ignoramus.

Stanyukovich writes his first works - articles and travel essays, which are published on the pages of the Marine Collection.

Returning to St. Petersburg, he wants to retire and fully engage in literary work. This decision caused an outburst of paternal anger. My father saw in Konstantin the successor of the traditions of the “marine family” of the Stanyukoviches. But now the formidable admiral was opposed no longer by a young man, but by a man who had seen a lot with established convictions. The family conflict ended with the victory of his son: he left the service and from that moment had to earn his own living.

In order to get to know peasant Russia more closely, Stanyukovich became a rural teacher in the Vladimir province. The life impressions of this time many years later were described in "Memoirs of a rural teacher of the sixties." The young man was literally shocked by the poverty, lawlessness, oppression of the peasants, who, after the abolition of serfdom, fell into bondage to the village rich, into a humiliating dependence on officials.

How could he help these people? Stanyukovich becomes a journalist. In his essays and feuilletons, he seeks to tell about the hard lot of the common people, to expose their oppressors. He changes many places of service, moves from city to city. A wide knowledge of life, the accumulated experience push him to artistic creativity. On the pages of one of the most advanced magazines of that time, "Delo", he publishes his first play "That's why the pike in the sea so that the crucian carp do not doze off" and the first novel "No Exodus". Thus begins the work of Stanyukovich as a writer.

Stanyukovich wrote a lot. These are whole cycles of articles and feuilletons that respond to all major events in public life. These are numerous stories and novels in which representatives of various strata of Russia act: city officials and ordinary peasants, scientists and high-society rogues, landowners and students, merchants and lawyers ... In many works, the writer tried to create the image of a positive hero, a person of advanced views who is looking for ways of exposing any fraud, active assistance to the suffering people.

The writer became more and more famous, but at the same time, the police began to look at him more and more closely. Police bloodhounds managed to establish that Stanyukovich, as one of the leaders of the Delo magazine, maintained contacts with Russian revolutionaries living abroad, published their works under pseudonyms, and helped them with money. At this time, fate dealt Stanyukovich a heavy blow: his beloved daughter became dangerously ill. The writer and his family went abroad in the hope that European doctors would save the girl. But alas, everything was in vain: she died. And at that moment, when the heartbroken father was returning to Russia, he was arrested by gendarmes while crossing the border, taken to St. Petersburg and imprisoned without trial in the Peter and Paul Fortress. Stanyukovich's wife for a long time did not know about his fate: no one could explain to her where her husband had disappeared so suddenly and without a trace.

The imprisonment lasted for many months. During this time, a financial disaster occurred: Stanyukovich lost all his property, the Delo magazine passed into the wrong hands. Finally, the fate of the prisoner was decided: he was exiled for three years to Siberia, to Tomsk. The writer's family, wife and children, followed him...

A low-power paddle steamer floated downstream along the Siberian river. On it among the passengers was Stanyukovich and his family: as a person of the “noble estate”, he was also entitled to some concessions here. And on a rope, the steamboat pulled a huge barge, the hold of which was packed with exiles and convicts from the common people. Dirt, cramped conditions, strong gratings blocking the exit to the deck ... And then suddenly the steamboat runs aground. The barge, drawn by the current of the river, slowly moves towards its stern. Another minute - and the irreparable will happen: the ships will collide. And if the passengers of the steamboat still have some chance of salvation, then those sailing on the barge are doomed to death: they cannot get out of the barred belly of the barge.

And at that moment of general stupor Stanyukovich's loud voice rang out.

- Cut the rope! - he shouted to the stern sailor, shouted so that he, without hesitation, hacked at the towing rope with an ax.

Now the barge was free. The jets of current caught her, and she slowly passed the stuck steamboat. Everyone breathed a sigh of relief...

So, Stanyukovich ended up in Tomsk. He makes acquaintances with political exiles, of whom there were many in this provincial town, looking for ways to somehow support his family: he gets a job, works in a local newspaper ... And at that very time a happy thought occurs to him: to turn to the memories of more than twenty years ago, to the time of his youth, to the events of his naval service. This is how the first sea stories were created.

They were an immediate success. They were reprinted by magazines, they were published in separate collections, the author began to receive letters of thanks, including from experienced sailors.

By 1888, when the term of exile ended and Stanyukovich and his family returned to the capital, his reputation as a maritime writer had already been established. From that time until the end of his life (he died in 1903), the maritime theme remains the main one in his work, the writer found himself in it, remained with it in the history of literature.

The time that Stanyukovich describes in his works is the time of sunset of the centuries-old history of the sailing fleet.

The service of a sailor in those years was difficult and dangerous. Sailors were recruited from among the serfs. Often they had never seen the sea before. It is hard to even imagine what they experienced when for the first time, on command, they climbed a high mast, so that, having scattered along the yards, at a terrible height, with strong pitching, they could fasten huge sails. And there was only one way of training - fist. Swearing, poking, spanking were commonplace. Stanyukovich emphasizes that he writes about the times of the past (corporal punishment was abolished in the navy simultaneously with the abolition of serfdom), it is not for nothing that many of his stories are subtitled “From the Distant Past”. And such a simple sailor, illiterate, often downtrodden, becomes the protagonist of Stanyukovich's prose. Looking closely at him, the writer reveals the best properties of his soul: self-esteem, affection for comrades, responsiveness to goodness, selflessness and courage, patience, a wise, simple-hearted, clear outlook on life. A sailor is a hard worker, accustomed to hard work, performing it with daring, despite the mortal risk.

Of course, as they say, the family has its black sheep, and among the sailors there are greedy, cruel, lackeys of the lord. But no matter how they dodge, but still the team sees through them and will never reward their location. Welded together by hard work, close life together, common dangers, the sailors know well who is worth. A miser, a scoundrel has no place in their working family.

Sailors judge their superiors accurately and shrewdly. Rigid, even cruel, ship discipline does not allow them to express directly their attitude towards the officers. But a moral assessment is given to everyone. And how human, how benevolent, how condescending this assessment is! It seems that not only a good deed, just a kind word on the part of an officer is enough for the sailors to follow him into the fire and into the water! Fate entrusted the command of the sailor mass to different people: among them there are worthy officers who care about the glory of the Russian fleet, there are also notorious scoundrels, careerists and swindlers. Such a gross injustice! Doesn't it reflect the injustice that reigned in those days in the whole of Russian society? Stanyukovich gradually brings the reader to this thought.

One can marvel at the power of the writer's memory. Through the decades, from a young age, he carried many features and traits of marine life, showed the marine service in all its diversity. It is as if we see with our own eyes a white-sailed ship, and a low cockpit, and cabins with floors upholstered in oilcloth, and wardrooms where off-duty officers have endless conversations ...

Service and life, storms and calms, work and study, emergency work and rest - all this was displayed by Stanyukovich in his works. But still, it is not the marine flavor of the stories that makes them so attractive to the reader. The image of a powerful and formidable element, in front of which, it would seem, it is especially noticeable how small and weak a person is, is opposed by the greatness of the soul of the people, the courage and valor of sailors, their selfless service to the Motherland.

Leonid Asanov

sea ​​stories

"Man overboard!"

The heat of the tropical day was beginning to subside. The sun slowly rolled towards the horizon.

Driven by a gentle trade wind, the clipper carried all the canvas and silently glided across the Atlantic Ocean, in seven knots. Empty all around: no sail, no haze on the horizon! Wherever you look, there is the same boundless water plain, slightly agitated and rumbling with some mysterious rumble, bordered on all sides by the transparent blue of a cloudless dome. The air is soft and transparent; from the ocean carries a healthy sea smell.

Empty around.

Occasionally, under the rays of the sun, a bright scale, like gold, a jumping flying fish will flash; high in the air a white albatross will pierce; a small loop will hurriedly sweep over the water, hurrying to the distant African coast; the sound of a water jet emitted by a whale will be heard - and again not a single living creature around. The ocean and the sky, the sky and the ocean - both are calm, affectionate, smiling.

- Allow, your honor, songwriters to sing songs? asked the non-commissioned officer of the watch, approaching the officer, who was walking lazily along the bridge.

The officer nodded his head in the affirmative, and a minute later the harmonious sounds of a village song, full of breadth and sadness, reverberated through the ocean. Satisfied that after the day's languor coolness has come, the sailors crowd on the forecastle, listening to the songwriters gathered at the forecastle gun. Inveterate amateurs, especially among old sailors, having surrounded the singers in a close circle, listen with concentration and seriousness, and mute delight shines on many tanned, weathered faces. Leaning forward, a broad-shouldered, stooping old man Lavrentich, a “solid” sailor from the “Bakovshchina”, with sinewy tarred hands, without a finger on one hand, long torn off by a mars-fal, and tenacious, slightly twisted legs, is a desperate drunkard who is always brought from the shore insensible and with a broken physiognomy (he likes to get into a fight with foreign sailors because, in his opinion, they “do not really drink, but only swagger”, diluting the strongest rum with water, which he blows naked), - this same Lavrentich , listening to the songs, as if frozen in some kind of languor, and his wrinkled face with a reddish-gray nose, like a plum, and a bristly mustache - usually angry, as if Lavrentich was dissatisfied with something and would now release a fountain of abuse - now looks unusually meek, softened by an expression of quiet thought. Some sailors quietly pull up; others, sitting in groups, are talking in an undertone, expressing approval from time to time with a smile, then an exclamation.

And in fact, our songwriters sing well! The voices in the choir were all young, fresh and clear, and sang perfectly. Shutikov's superb velvety tenor voice was especially enthralling to everyone. This voice stood out among the choir with its beauty, climbing into the very soul with charming sincerity and warmth of expression.

- Enough for the very insides, scoundrel! - the sailors talked about the undertone.

Song flowed after song, reminding the sailors, amidst the warmth and brilliance of the tropics, their distant homeland with its snows and frosts, fields, forests and black huts, with its deprivation and squalor close to the heart ...

- Get out the dance, guys!

The choir burst into a merry dance-song. Shutikov's tenor was so filled with valor and merriment that it now rang out, evoking an involuntary smile on their faces and making even respectable sailors shrug their shoulders and stamp their feet.

Makarka, a small, brisk young sailor, who had long felt itching in his lean body, as if picked up in himself, could not stand it and went to grab a trepak to the sounds of a dashing song, to the general pleasure of the spectators.

Finally, the singing and dancing ended. When Shutikov, a lean, slender, dark-haired sailor, left the circle and went to the tub to smoke, he was escorted with approving remarks.

- And you sing well, oh well, the dog eats you! observed Lavrentich, touched, shaking his head and adding an unprintable curse as a sign of approval.

- He should learn a little, but if, approximately, to understand the bass general - so fuck the opera! - with aplomb put in our young clerk from the cantonists, Pugovkin, who flaunted good manners and refined expressions.

Lavrentich, who did not tolerate and despised "officials" as people, in his opinion, completely useless on board, and considered it as if it was a duty of honor to cut them off at any opportunity, frowned, cast an angry glance at the fair-haired, full-bodied, handsome clerk, and said:

You are our opera! The belly grew from loafing - and the opera came out!

There was a chuckle among the sailors.

- Do you understand what opera means? - observed the embarrassed clerk. - Oh, uneducated people! he said softly and prudently hurried away.

- Look what an educated mamzel! - Lavrentich contemptuously launched after him and added, in his usual way, a scolding, but already without an affectionate expression. “That’s what I’m saying,” he began, after a pause and turning to Shutikov, “it’s important that you sing songs, Yegorka!”

- What to interpret. He is our all-rounder. One word - well done, Yegorka! .. - someone noticed.

In response to the approval, Shutikov only smiled, baring his white, even teeth from under the good-natured plump lips.

And that contented smile, clear and bright, like that of children, standing in the soft features of a young, fresh face covered with tan; and those large dark eyes, meek and affectionate, like those of a puppy; and a neat, well-chosen lean figure, strong, muscular and flexible, however, not devoid of a baggy peasant fold - everything in him attracted and disposed to him from the first time, like his wonderful voice. And Shutikov enjoyed general affection. Everyone loved him, and he seemed to love everyone.

She was one of those rare, happy, cheerful natures, at the sight of which one involuntarily becomes brighter and more joyful in the soul. Such people are some kind of born optimistic philosophers. His cheerful, hearty laugh was often heard from the clipper. Sometimes he would say something and the first one would laugh contagiously and deliciously. Looking at him, the others involuntarily laughed, even if there was sometimes nothing particularly funny in Shutikov's story. While sharpening some block, scraping off paint on a boat, or while away the night watch, perched on Mars, behind the wind, Shutikov usually quietly sang along to some song, while he himself smiled his good smile, and everyone was somehow cheerful and comfortable with him. Rarely have Shutikov been seen angry or sad. A cheerful mood did not leave him even when others were ready to lose heart, and at such moments Shutikov was indispensable.

I remember how once we were stormy. The wind roared fiercely, a storm raged all around, and the clipper, under storm sails, was tossed like a chip on the ocean waves, ready, it seemed, to swallow the fragile ship in its gray crests. The clipper trembled and moaned plaintively with all its limbs, merging its complaints with the whistle of the wind howling in the inflated gear. Even the old sailors, who had seen all sorts of things, were sullenly silent, looking inquisitively at the bridge, where, as if rooted to the railing, the tall figure of the captain, wrapped in a raincoat, vigilantly looked at the raging storm.

And Shutikov at this time, holding on to the tackle with one hand so as not to fall, was occupied by a small group of young sailors, with frightened faces pressed against the mast, in side conversations. He spoke so calmly and simply, talking about some amusing village incident, and laughed so good-naturedly when the spray of the waves hit his face, that this calm mood was involuntarily transmitted to others and encouraged the young sailors, driving away any thought of danger.

- And where are you, the devil, got the hang of tearing your throat so cleverly? - Lavrentich spoke again, sucking on a nose warmer with shag. - A sailor sang with us on the Kostenkino, I must tell the truth that he sang formally, a rogue, he sang ... but everything is not so outrageous.

- So, self-taught, when he lived as a shepherd. It used to happen that the herd would scatter through the forest, and you yourself would lie under a birch tree and play songs ... That's what they called me in the village: the song shepherd! added Shutikov, smiling.

And for some reason everyone smiled in response, and Lavrentich, in addition, patted Shutikov on the back and, in the form of special affection, swore in the most gentle tone that his well-worn voice was only capable of.

At that moment, pushing the sailors aside, a stout elderly sailor Ignatov, who had just jumped out of the deck, hastily entered the circle.

Pale and confused, with an uncovered, short-cropped, round head, he announced in a voice broken by anger and excitement that a gold piece had been stolen from him.

“Twenty francs!” Twenty francs, brothers! he repeated plaintively, emphasizing the figure.

This news confused everyone. Such cases were rare on the clipper ship.

The old men frowned. The young sailors, dissatisfied that Ignatov had suddenly broken the cheerful mood, listened more with frightened curiosity than with sympathy as he, panting and desperately waving his neat hands, hurried to tell about all the circumstances that accompanied the theft: how he still today after dinner, when the team was resting, he went to his chest, and everything was, thank God, intact, everything was in its place, and just now he went for shoe goods - and ... the lock, brothers, was broken. There are no twenty francs.

- How is that? Steal from your own brother? - Ignatov finished, looking around the crowd with a wandering look.

His smooth, well-fed, clean-shaven face, covered with large freckles, with small round eyes and a sharp, hooked nose, like that of a hawk, always distinguished by calm restraint and the contented, sedate look of a clever man who understands his own worth, was now distorted by the despair of a miser who had lost everything. property. The lower jaw quivered; His round eyes darted around in confusion. It was evident that the theft completely upset him, revealing his kulakish, stingy nature.

Not without reason, Ignatov, whom some sailors were already beginning to honorably call Semyonitch, was a stingy and money-hungry man. He also went on a round-the-world voyage, volunteering as a hunter and leaving his wife, a market trader, and two children in Kronstadt, with the sole purpose of accumulating some money in swimming and, after retiring, to engage in trade in Kronstadt a little. He led an extremely abstemious life, did not drink wine, did not spend money on the shore. He saved money, saved it stubbornly, by pennies, knew where it was profitable to exchange gold and silver, and, under great secrecy, lent small sums for interest to reliable people. In general, Ignatov was a resourceful person and expected to do a good deed by bringing to Russia some Japanese and Chinese things to sell cigars. He had already engaged in such affairs before, when he sailed for years in the Gulf of Finland: in Revel, it happened, he would buy sprats, in Helsingfors cigars and mamurovka and resell them profitably in Kronstadt.

Ignatov was a helmsman, served regularly, trying to get along with everyone, was friends with the battalion and sub-skipper, was literate and carefully concealed that he had money, and, moreover, decent for a sailor.

- This is definitely a scoundrel Proshka, no one like him! - Ignatov continued excitedly, boiling with anger. - Yes, he kept spinning in the deck when I went to the chest ... What should I do with this scoundrel now, brothers? he asked, addressing mainly the elderly and as if seeking their support. “Is that how I make up my mind about money?” After all, I have money in my blood. You know, brothers, what a sailor's money is. I used to collect a penny ... I don’t drink my own cups ... ”he added in a humiliated, plaintive tone.

Although there was no other evidence, except that Proshka “had been spinning around on deck”, nevertheless, the victim himself and the listeners had no doubt that it was Proshka Zhitin who stole the money, who had already been caught more than once in petty thefts from his comrades. Not a single voice was heard in his defense. On the contrary, many indignant sailors showered abuse on the alleged thief.

- What a scoundrel! It only shames the sailor rank ... - Lavrentich said with heart.

- Yes, but ... We also got a lousy dog.

“Now we must teach him a lesson so that he remembers, you dissolute loafer!”

"So, brothers, how are you?" Ignatov continued. - What to do with Proshka? If he doesn't give back kindly, I'll ask you to report to the senior officer. Let them sort it out.

But this idea, pleasant to Ignatov, did not find support on the tank. The forecastle had its own special, unwritten charter, the strict guardians of which, like ancient priests, were old sailors.

And Lavrentich was the first to protest vigorously.

- This, it turns out, with a letter to the authorities? he said contemptuously. - Start slander? Forgotten, apparently, with a fright the sailor's rule? Oh you ... people! - And Lavrentich, for relief, mentioned the "people" with his usual word. - Also invented, and still considered a sailor! he added, throwing a not particularly friendly glance at Ignatov.

- How do you think?

– But in our opinion, just as they taught before. Beat the dog's son Proshka to the ground so that he remembers, and take the money. Here's how we do it.

- You never know, the scoundrel, they beat him! What if he doesn't give up? So, does that mean money is wasted? What is this for? Let them formally sue the thief... There is nothing to pity such a dog, brothers.

- You are very greedy for money, Ignatov. I suppose Proshka didn’t steal everything… Is there still a little left? Lavrentich said ironically.

- Did you think so!

- I didn’t think so, but this is not a sailor’s business - slander. No good! Lavrentich remarked authoritatively. Am I right guys?

And almost all the "guys", to the displeasure of Ignatov, confirmed who was not good for making slander.

“Now bring Proshka here!” Interrogate him in front of the guys! Lavrentich decided.

And Ignatov, angry and dissatisfied, obeyed, however, the general decision and followed Proshka.

In anticipation of him, the sailors closed the circle closer.

Prokhor of the Life, or, as everyone disdainfully called him, Proshka, was the very last sailor. Having become a sailor from the yard, a desperate coward, whom only the threat of a flogging could force him to go up to Mars, where he experienced invincible physical fear, a lazy and loafer who shied away from work, and to all this, dishonest, Proshka from the very beginning of the voyage became in a position some outcast pariah. Everyone pushed them around; the boatswain and non-commissioned officers, looking like, and for the cause, and so, for a great life, they scolded and beat Proshka, saying: “Oooh, loafer!” And he never protested, but with some habitual dull humility of a slaughtered animal endured beatings. After several petty thefts in which he was convicted, he was hardly spoken to and treated with disdain. Anyone who was not lazy could scold him with impunity, hit him, send him somewhere, mock him, as if a different attitude towards Proshka was unthinkable.

Konstantin Mikhailovich Stanyukovich

One spring morning, when work on the manufacture of ships for the summer voyage had long been in full swing in the Kronstadt harbors, a batman who acted as a footman and cook entered the dining room of the small apartment of the captain of the second rank Vasily Mikhailovich Luzgin. His name was Ivan Kokorin.

Tugging at the greasy black frock coat that had just been put on over the sailor's uniform shirt, Ivan reported in his soft, insinuating tenor:

A new batman has appeared, mistress. The gentleman from the crew was sent.

The lady, a prominent young blond woman with large gray eyes, was sitting at the samovar, in a blue hood, with a small cap on her head that covered her untidy, light-brown hair tied in a knot, and drinking coffee. Next to her, on a high chair, lazily sipping milk, dangling his legs, a black-eyed boy of about seven or eight, in a red shirt with a gold braid. Standing behind her, holding a baby in her arms, was a young, thin, timid girl, barefoot and in a worn cotton dress. Everyone called her Anyutka. She was the only serf Luzgina given to her as a dowry as a teenager.

Do you, Ivan, know this batman? asked the lady, raising her head.

I don't know, lady.

And how does he look?

How to eat a rude sailor! Without any appeal, lady! - Ivan answered, contemptuously protruding his thick, juicy lips.

He himself did not look like a sailor at all.

Full-bodied, smooth and ruddy, with reddish, oiled hair, with a freckled, clean-shaven face of a man of about thirty-five, and with small, swollen eyes, he, both in his outward appearance and in a certain swagger of manner, resembled himself more of a courtyard, accustomed to living near masters.

From the very first year of service he got into orderlies and since then he was constantly on the shore, never once going to sea.

For the past three years he had been living with the Luzgins as orderlies and, despite the exactingness of the mistress, he knew how to please her.

Isn't it obvious that he's a drunkard? - again asked the lady, who did not like drunken batmen.

Doesn't seem to have a personality, but who knows? Yes, you yourself, if you please, examine and interrogate the batman, mistress, ”Ivan added.

Well, send him here.

Ivan went out, throwing a quick tender glance at Anyutka.

Anyutka raised her eyebrows angrily.

A stocky, short, black-haired sailor with a brass earring appeared at the door. He looked to be in his fifties. Buttoned into a uniform, the high collar of which cut into his red-brown neck, he seemed clumsy and very unprepossessing. Cautiously stepping over the threshold, the sailor drew himself up as he should in front of his superiors, gawked slightly at the mistress, and froze in a motionless pose, holding his hefty hairy arms at the seams, sinewy and black from soaked resin.

Two fingers were missing on the right hand.

This beetle-black sailor with the rough features of an ugly, pockmarked, red-skinned face heavily overgrown with jet-black sideburns and mustaches, with thick, disheveled eyebrows, which gave his typical physiognomy of a real marshal a somewhat angry look, apparently , an unpleasant impression.

"Couldn't have found a better one," she mentally said, annoyed that her husband had chosen such a rude dork.

She again looked at the sailor who was standing motionless and drew attention to his slightly arched legs with large, like bear feet, and the absence of two fingers, and - most importantly - to his nose, a wide fleshy nose, the crimson color of which inspired her with disturbing suspicions.

Hello! said the lady at last in a displeased, dry tone, and her large gray eyes became stern.

I wish you good health, your wandering, - the sailor barked in response in a loud bass voice, apparently not realizing the size of the room.

Don't scream like that! - She said sternly and looked around to see if the child was frightened. - You don't seem to be on the street, in the room. Speak quieter.

Yes, your arrogance, - significantly lowering his voice, the sailor answered.

Even quieter. Can you speak more quietly?

I'll try my best, you bastard! - he said quite quietly and embarrassedly, foreseeing that the lady would "force" him.

What is your name?

Fedos, your arrogance.

The lady grimaced, as if from a toothache. Quite a disingenuous name!

And the surname?

Chizhik, your arrogance!

How? - repeated the lady.

Chizhik… Fedos Chizhik!

Both the mistress and the little boy, who had long ago left the milk and kept his curious and somewhat frightened eyes on this hairy sailor, involuntarily laughed, and Anyutka snorted into her hand - before that name did not suit his appearance.

And on the serious, tense face of Fedos Chizhik appeared an unusually good-natured and pleasant smile, which seemed to confirm that Chizhik himself finds his nickname somewhat ridiculous.

The boy intercepted this smile, which completely transformed the stern expression of the sailor's face. And his frowned eyebrows, and mustaches, and sideburns no longer embarrassed the boy. He immediately felt that Chizhik was kind, and now he decidedly liked him. Even the smell of resin that came from him seemed to him especially pleasant and significant.

And he said to his mother:

Take, mom, Chizhik.

Taiser vous! mother remarked.

And, assuming a serious look, she continued the interrogation:

For whom were you formerly a batman?

I was not at all in this rank, your arrogance.

Never been a batman?

That's right, your arrogance. He was in the naval unit. Uniform, that means a sailor, your wandering ...

Just call me mistress, and not your stupid vagrant nonsense.

I hear you, your ... guilty, mistress!

And you've never been a messenger?

Not at all.

Why are you now assigned to orderly?

Because of the fingers! - answered Fedos, lowering his eyes to the hand, devoid of thumb and forefinger. - Mars-fallom was torn off last summer on the "envelope", on the "Kopchik" ...

How does your husband know you?

Three summers with them on the "Kopchik" served under their command.

This news seemed to reassure the lady somewhat. And she asked in a less angry tone:

Do you drink vodka?

I use it, lady! Fedos admitted.

And… do you drink a lot of it?

In pleportia, mistress.

The lady shook her head in disbelief.

But why is your nose so red, huh?

Kind of like that, lady.

But not from vodka?

Must not be. I am always in my form, if ever I drink on a holiday.

A batman mustn't drink... Absolutely impossible... I can't stand drunkards! Do you hear? the lady added impressively.

Fedos looked somewhat surprised at the mistress and said, in order to make a remark:

I'm listening!

Remember this.

Fedos was diplomatically silent.

Did your husband say what position you are hired for?

Not at all. Just ordered to come to you.

You will go after this little gentleman, - the lady pointed at the boy with a movement of her head. - You will be a nanny with him.

Fedos looked affectionately at the boy, and the boy at Fedos, and both smiled.

The lady began to list the duties of a nurse-nanny.

He must wake up the little gentleman at eight o'clock and dress him, be with him all day long and take care of him like the apple of his eye. Every day go for a walk with him ... In free time wash his clothes...

Can you wash?

We wash our own clothes! - answered Fedos and thought that the lady must not be very brainy if she asks if the sailor knows how to wash.

I will explain the details of all your duties later, and now answer: have you understood what is required of you?

A faint smile flickered in the sailor's eyes.

“It’s easy, they say, to understand!” she seemed to say.

Understood, lady! - answered Fedos, somewhat dejected both by this solemn tone in which the mistress spoke, and by these long explanations, and finally decided that the mistress does not have a great mind, if she is so useless "talking with her tongue."

Well, do you like children?

Why not love children, mistress. It is known ... child. What to take from him ...

Go to the kitchen now and wait until Vasily Mikhailovich returns ... Then I will finally decide whether I will leave you or not.

Finding that a sailor in uniform should conscientiously fulfill the role of a subordinate who understands the drill, Fedos, in accordance with all the rules of military service, turned around to the left, left the dining room and went into the yard to smoke a pipe.

Well, Shura, you seem to like this dork?

I liked it, mom. And you take it.

Let's ask dad: is he a drunkard?

Why, Chizhik told you that he was not a drunkard.

He cannot be trusted.

He is a sailor... a man. He doesn't have to lie.

Does he know how to tell stories? Will he play with me?

True, he knows how to play and must ...

But Anton did not know how and did not play with me.

Anton was a lazy person, a drunkard and a rude man.

That's why they sent him to the carriage, mother?

And there they flogged?

Yes, honey, to fix it.

And he always returned from the carriage angry ... And he didn’t even want to talk to me ...

Because Anton was a bad person. Nothing could fix him.

Where is Anton now?

Don't know…

The boy fell silent, thoughtful, and finally said seriously:

And you, mother, if you love me, do not send Chizhik to the carriage to be whipped there, like Anton, otherwise Chizhik will not tell me fairy tales and will scold like Anton ...

Did he dare to scold you?

He called him a vile brat... That must be something bad...

Look, what a scoundrel!.. Why didn't you, Shura, tell me that he called you that?

You would have sent him to the crew, but I feel sorry for him ...

You shouldn't feel sorry for such people... And you, Shura, shouldn't hide anything from your mother.

When talking about Anton Anyutka suppressed a sigh.

This young, curly-haired Anton, impudent and reckless, who liked to drink and was boastful and provocative at that time, left in Anyutka the most pleasant memories of those two months that he spent in nannies with the barchuk.

Anyutka, in love with a young orderly, often shed tears when the master, at the insistence of the lady, sent Anton to the carriage for punishment. And this often happened. And to this day, Anyutka remembers with delight how well he played the balalaika and sang songs. And what bold eyes he has! How he did not let down the lady herself, especially when he had drunk! And Anyutka secretly suffered, realizing the hopelessness of her love. Anton did not pay the slightest attention to her and looked after the neighbor's maid.

How much nicer is he than this lady's earphone, the nasty red-haired Ivan, who pursues her with his courtesies ... He also imagines himself, the red-haired devil! The passage in the kitchen does not allow ...

At that moment the child, who was in Anyutka's arms, woke up and burst into tears.

Anyutka hurriedly paced the room, pumping the baby to bed and singing songs to him in a clear, pleasant voice.

The child didn't budge. Anyutka glanced timidly at the mistress.

Give it here, Anyutka! You don't know how to babysit at all! - the young woman shouted irritably, unbuttoning the collar of the hood with her plump white hand.

Finding himself at his mother's breast, the little one instantly calmed down and sucked greedily, quickly fingering his lips and gazing merrily ahead of him with eyes full of tears.

Clear the table, but be careful not to break anything.

Anyutka rushed to the table and began to clean up with the stupid haste of a frightened creature.

At the beginning of the first hour, when the port was shaking, Vasily Mikhailovich Luzgin returned home from the military harbor where the “Kopchik” was armed, a rather stout, imposing brunette, about forty years old, with a small belly and bald, in a shabby working coat, tired and hungry.

When he arrived, breakfast was on the table.

The sailor kissed his wife and son loudly and drank two glasses of vodka one after the other. After eating a herring, he pounced on the steak with the greed of a very hungry man. Still would! From five o'clock in the morning, after two glasses of tea, he had not eaten anything.

Having quenched his hunger, he tenderly looked at his young, well-dressed, handsome wife and asked:

Well, Marusenka, did you like the new batman?

Can such a batman please?

In Vasily Mikhailovich's small, good-natured dark eyes, a glimpse of concern flashed.

Some kind of rough, uncouth ... Now it is clear that he never served in the houses.

That's for sure, but then, Marusya, he is a reliable person. I know him.

And that suspicious nose... He must be a drunkard! the wife insisted.

He drinks a glass or two, but I assure you that he is not a drunkard," Luzgin objected cautiously and with unusual gentleness.

And, knowing well that Marusenka did not like being contradicted, considering this a blood insult, he added:

However, as you wish. If you don't like it, I'll look for another batman.

Where to look again?.. Shura has no one to walk with... God bless him... Let him stay, live... I'll see what a treasure your Chizhik is!

His last name is really funny! said Luzgin, laughing.

And the most peasant name ... Fedos!

Well, you can call him whatever you like ... You really, Marusya, will not repent ... He is an honest and conscientious person ... What a for-Mars man he was! .. But if you don’t want to, we will send Chizhik ... Your princely will ...

Marya Ivanovna, even without her husband's assurances, knew that the simple-hearted and simple-minded Vasily Mikhailovich, who was in love with her, did everything that she only wanted, and was her most obedient slave, not once during the ten years of marriage and did not think about overthrowing the yoke of his beautiful wife.

Nevertheless, she found it necessary to say:

Although I do not like this Chizhik, but I will leave it, as you want it.

But, Marusenka... Why?... If you don't want to...

I take it! said Marya Ivanovna authoritatively.

Vasily Mikhailovich could only look gratefully at Marusenka, who showed such attention to his desire. And Shurka was very pleased that Chizhik would be his nanny.

The new orderly was again called into the dining room. He again stretched out at the threshold and listened without much joy to Marya Ivanovna's announcement that she was leaving him.

Tomorrow morning he will move to them with his things. Will fit with the chef.

And today, go to the bathhouse… Wash your black hands,” the young woman added, looking at the sailor’s tarred, rough hands, not without disgust.

I dare to report, you can’t wash off at once ... - Pitch! - Fedos explained and, as if to confirm the validity of these words, he turned his gaze to his former commander.

“Say, explain to her if she doesn’t understand anything.”

Over time, the resin will come out, Marusya ... He will try to get it out ...

That's right, your arrogance.

And don't shout like that, Theodosius... I've already told you several times...

Do you hear, Chizhik ... Don't scream! - confirmed Vasily Mikhailovich.

Listen, your arrogance...

Look, Chizhik, serve as orderlies as well as you served on the corvette. Take care of your son.

Yes, your arrogance!

And don't take vodka in your mouth! the lady remarked.

Yes, brother, beware, - Vasily Mikhailovich assented hesitantly, feeling at the same time the falsity and futility of his words and confident that Chizhik would drink in moderation on occasion.

Yes, here's another thing, Theodosius ... Do you hear, I will call you Theodosius ...

Whatever you like, lady.

You don’t say any nasty words there, especially in front of a child. And if the sailors swear on the street, take the master away.

That's it, don't swear, Chizhik. Remember that you are not on the tank, but in the rooms!

Don't hesitate, your arrogance.

And obey the lady in everything. Whatever she commands, do it. Don't contradict.

Listen, your arrogance...

God save you, Chizhik, dare to be rude to the mistress. For the slightest rudeness, I will order you to skin down! Vasily Mikhailovich said sternly and decisively. - Understood?

Understood, your arrogance.

There was silence.

"Thank God it's over!" Chizhik thought.

You don't need him anymore, Marusenka?

You can go, Chizhik ... Tell the sergeant major that I took you! Vasily Mikhailovich said in a good-natured tone, as if a minute ago he had not threatened to take off his skin.

Chizhik came out as if from a bathhouse and, frankly, was greatly puzzled by the behavior of his former commander.

On the corvette, he seemed like an eagle, especially when he stood on the bridge during emergency operations or was driven in fresh weather, but here, with his wife, he is completely different, “like an obedient calf.” And again: in the service he was with a sailor "dober", fought rarely and with reason, and not in vain; and this same commander, because of his “white-haired” skin, threatens to let down.

“This thorn-woman commands everything here!” Chizhik thought, not without some contemptuous pity for his former commander.

“Hey, then, traf,” he mentally said.

Are you moving to us, fellow countryman? Ivan stopped him in the kitchen.

That’s something for you, ”Chizhik answered rather dryly, who did not like orderlies and messengers at all and considered them, in comparison with real sailors, to be loafers.

I suppose there will be enough space ... We have a spacious room ... Would you order a cigarette? ..

Thank you brother. I - the phone ... So far, goodbye.

On the way to the carriage, Chizhik thought that batmen, and even with such a “splinter” as Luzginikha, would be “tedious”. And in general he did not like living under the masters.

And he regretted that his fingers had been torn off by the marsa-falom. If he had not lost his fingers, he would still be a uniformed sailor until his retirement.

And then: "Don't take vodka in your mouth!" Tell me, please, what the woman's foolish head invented! - Chizhik said aloud, approaching the barracks.

By eight o'clock the next morning, Fedos had moved to the Luzgins with his belongings - a small chest, a mattress, a pillow in a clean pink chintz pillowcase, recently presented by the boatswain godfather, and a balalaika. Putting all this in a corner of the kitchen, he took off his uniform, which was restricting him, and, dressed in a sailor's shirt and shoes, appeared to the mistress, ready to take on his new duties as a nurse.

In a loose-fitting shirt with a wide turn-down collar that revealed a strong, sinewy neck, and in spacious trousers, Fedos had a completely different - laid-back and not even devoid of some peculiar pleasantness - look of a dashing, experienced sailor who can find himself under any circumstances. Everything on it sat deftly and gave the impression of neatness. And he smelled, in Shurka's opinion, somehow especially pleasant: tar and shag.

The lady, having carefully examined both Fedos and his suit, found that the new batman was wow, not so ugly and muzhik as he seemed the day before. And the facial expression is not so severe.

Only his dark hands still embarrassed Mrs. Luzgina, and she asked, throwing a disgusted glance at the sailor's hands:

Have you been in the bath?

Exactly so, lady. - And, as if justifying himself, he added: - You can’t wash the resin right away. It's impossible.

You are still more often my hands. Keep them clean.

I'm listening, sir.

Then the young woman, looking down at the canvas shoes of Fedos, remarked in a stern tone:

Look... Don't even think of showing up barefoot in the rooms. This is not a deck and not sailors ...

Yes, lady.

Well, go get some tea... Here's a piece of sugar for you.

Thank you very much! - answered the sailor, carefully taking a piece so as not to touch the lady's white fingers with his fingers.

Don't sit in the kitchen for too long. Come to Alexander Vasilyevich.

Come quickly, Chizhik! Shura also asked.

I'll turn around quickly, Leksandra Vasilyich!

From the very first day, Fedos entered into the most friendly relations with Shurka.

First of all, Shurka took Fedos to the nursery and began to show his numerous toys. Some of them aroused surprise in the sailor, and he examined them with curiosity, which gave the boy great pleasure. Fedos promised to fix the broken mill and the damaged steamer - they would act.

Well? Shura asked incredulously. - Can you do it?

I'll try something.

Do you know how to tell fairy tales, Chizhik?

And I can tell stories.

And will you tell me?

Why not tell? On time it is possible and a fairy tale.

And I will love you, Chizhik, for that ...

Instead of answering, the sailor affectionately stroked the boy's head with a rough hand, while smiling unusually soft and clear with his eyes from under his overhanging eyebrows.

Such familiarity not only did not displease Shurka, who had heard from his mother that one should not allow any shortness with the servants, but, on the contrary, endeared him even more to Fedos.

And you know what, Chizhik?

What, barchuk? ..

I will never complain about you to my mother ...

Why complain? .. Probably, I won’t beat the little barchuk with anything ... It’s not good to beat a child. This is the biggest sin ... Even the beast does not hurt puppies ... Well, if, by chance, some kind of quarrel breaks out between us, ”Fedos continued, smiling good-naturedly,“ we will figure it out ourselves, without mother ... That’s better, barchuk ... And what about slandering in vain? .. This is not a good thing, my brother, slander ... The very last thing! - added the sailor, who sacredly professed sailor traditions that forbid slander.

Shurka agreed that this was not a good thing - he heard this from Anton and Anyutka more than once - and hastened to explain that he did not even complain about Anton when he called him a "vile brat" so that they would not send him to flog in crew…

And without that, he was often sent ... He was rude to his mother! And he was drunk! added the boy in a confidential tone.

That's right, barchuk ... Quite right! - Fedos said almost tenderly and approvingly patted Shurka on the shoulder. - A child's heart has managed to take pity on a person ... Let's say, this Anton, to put it bluntly, is to blame ... Is it possible to take revenge on a child's heart? .. He is a fool in all forms! And you left foolish guilt unattended, for nothing that stupid age ... Well done, barchuk!

Shurka was apparently flattered by Chizhik's approval, although it ran counter to his mother's orders not to hide anything from her.

And Fedos carefully sat down on the chest and continued:

If you had told your mother then about these same Antonov words, they would have torn him off like Sidorov's goat ... Do your favor!

And what does this mean?.. What kind of a goat, Chizhik?..

Nasty, barchuk, goat, - Chizhik grinned. - This is what they say, if, then, a sailor is flogged for a very long time ... It seems like to insensibility ...

And you were flogged like Sidorov's goat, Chizhik? ..

Me?.. It happened before... Anything happened...

And does it hurt a lot?

Don't worry, it's not easy...

For what?..

For the naval unit ... that's what ... They didn’t particularly understand ...

And they flogged me, Chizhik.

Look at you, poor... Such a small one?

Mom whipped ... And it hurt too ...

What are you for?..

Once for my mother’s cup ... I broke it, and another time, Chizhik, I didn’t listen to my mother ... Only you, Chizhik, don’t tell anyone ...

Don't be afraid, honey, I won't tell anyone...

Dad, he never sec.

And a kind deed ... Why flog?

But Petya Goldobin - do you know Admiral Goldobin? - so everything is just dad punishing him ... And often ...

Fedos shook his head disapprovingly. No wonder the sailors did not like this Goldobin. Shaped dog!

And on the "Kopchik" does dad punish the sailors?

You can't do without it, little bastard.

And flog?

It happens. However, your daddy is a dober ... Sailors love him ....

Still ... He is very kind! .. Now it would be nice to take a walk in the yard, Chizhik! - the boy exclaimed, abruptly changing the conversation and looking through narrowed eyes at the window, from which sheaves of light poured, flooding the room with brilliance.

Well, let's take a walk ... The sun plays like that. It amuses the soul.

All you have to do is ask your mom...

Of course, we need to take time off... They won't let us in without bosses!

Is it true, will it?

Must be let go!

Shurka ran away and, returning a minute later, exclaimed cheerfully:

Mom let go! She only ordered a warm coat to be put on and then to appear to her. Dress me, Chizhik! .. Here is a coat hanging ... There is a hat and a scarf around my neck ...

Well, clothes on you, barchuk ... Exactly in the cold! Fedos chuckled as he dressed the boy.

And I say it's hot.

That will be hot...

Mom doesn't allow another coat... I already asked... Well, let's go to Mom!

Marya Ivanovna examined Shurka and, turning to Fedos, said:

Look, take care of the master ... So that he doesn’t fall and hurt himself!

“How can you see? And what's the trouble if the boy falls? - thought Fedos, who did not at all approve of the lady for her idle words, and officially and respectfully answered:

I'm listening!

Well, go...

Both satisfied, they left the bedroom, accompanied by the envious glance of Anyutka, who was nursing the child.

One second wait for me in the corridor, barchuk ... I'll just change my shoes.

Fedos ran into the room behind the kitchen, changed into boots, took a pea coat and cap, and they went out into a large yard, in the depths of which there was a garden with green buds on bare trees.

It was nice outside.

The spring sun looked amiably from the blue sky, through which cirrus snow-white clouds moved, and warmed pretty much. The air, full of invigorating sharpness, smelled of freshness, manure and, thanks to the neighborhood of the barracks, sour cabbage soup and black bread. Water dripped from the roofs, glistened in potholes, and cut grooves in the bare, steamy ground with barely broken grass. Everything in the yard seemed to tremble with life.

Hens roamed around the barn, clucking merrily, and a restless motley rooster, with an important, businesslike air, strode around the yard, looking for grain and treating his girlfriends to them. Ducks cackled at the potholes. A flock of sparrows kept flying from the garden into the yard and jumping, chirping and quarreling with each other. Pigeons walked on the roof of the shed, straightening their gray feathers in the sun and cooing about something. In the very sun, by the water barrel, a large red-haired mongrel was dozing, and from time to time he snapped his teeth, catching fleas.

Charm, Chizhik! - Shurka exclaimed, full of joy of life, and, like a foal released into the wild, rushed across the yard to the barn, frightening the sparrows and chickens, which fled at full speed and with a desperate cackling forced the rooster to stop and raise its leg in bewilderment.

That's good! said the sailor.

And he sat down on an overturned keg by the shed, took a small pipe and a tobacco pouch out of his pocket, filled the pipe, crushed the small shag with his clumsy thumb, and, lighting a cigarette, puffed on it with visible pleasure, looking around the whole yard - and chickens, and ducks, and a dog, and grass, and streams - with that penetrating, loving look, which people who love both nature and animals can only look at.

Be careful, barchuk!.. Don't fall into the hole... Look, some water... It's flattering for a duck...

Shurka soon got tired of running, and he sat down next to Fedos. The boy seemed to be drawn to him.

They spent almost the whole day in the yard - they only went to have breakfast and dine in the house, and during these hours Fedos discovered such an abundance of knowledge, he knew how to explain everything about chickens, and about ducks, and about lambs in the sky, that Shurka resolutely came into an enthusiastic surprise and was imbued with some kind of reverent respect for such a wealth of information from his foster and only wondered how Chizhik knew everything.

As if a whole new world opened up to the boy in this yard, and for the first time he paid attention to everything that was on it and that turned out to be so interesting. And he listened in delight to Chizhik, who, talking about animals or grass, seemed to be both an animal and grass himself - before that, so to speak, he was completely imbued with their life ...

The reason for such a conversation was given by Shurka's prank. He threw a stone at a duck and knocked it out... With a loud cackle, it jumped aside...

That's not right, Leksandra Vasilyich! said Fedos, shaking his head and knitting his drooping brows. - No-ho-ro-sho, you are my brother! he drawled with a gentle reproach in his voice.

Shurka flushed and did not know whether to be offended or not, and, pretending not to hear Fedos's remarks, with an artificially carefree air, began to pour earth into the groove with his foot.

Why did they offend the unrequited bird? .. There she is, poor, lame and thinks: “Why did the boy hurt me in vain? ..” And she went to her drake to complain.

Shurka was embarrassed: he understood that he had acted badly, and at the same time he was interested that Chizhik said that ducks think and can complain.

And he, like all conceited children who do not like to confess their guilt to others, went up to the sailor and, without answering to the point, said arrogantly:

What kind of game are you talking about, Chizhik! Can ducks think and still complain?

How do you think? .. I suppose, every creature understands and thinks its own thoughts ... And among itself it talks in its own way ... Look, how did the sparrow chirp? - Fedos pointed out with a quiet movement of his head at a sparrow that had flown from the garden. - You think he is simple, rogue: "chilik yes chilik!" Not at all! He, my brother, has found the stern and calls his comrades. “Fly, they say, brothers, turn over together! Come on, guys!" Also a sparrow, but probably understands that eating grub is not good for one ... I, they say, eat, and you eat, and not something that is slowly from others ...

Shurka sat down beside him on a keg, apparently interested.

And the sailor continued:

At least take a dog ... Laika this very one. Something she does not understand, how today at lunch Ivan scalded her with boiling water from his mischief? .. He also found someone to swagger over! Over the dog, shameless loafer! - Fedos said with heart. - Probably, now this same Laika will not come to the kitchen ... And away from the kitchen, then ... She knows how they will meet her there ... She’s not afraid of us!

And with these words, Fedos called a shaggy, far from plain-looking dog with an intelligent muzzle, and, stroking it, said:

What, brother, got it from a fool? .. Show your back! ..

Laika licked the sailor's hand.

The sailor carefully examined her back.

Well, Laechka, they didn’t scald you very much ... You squealed more from annoyance, that means ... Don’t be afraid ... Now I won’t give you offense ...

The dog licked his hand again and wagged its tail merrily.

There, she feels affection too ... Look, the barchuk ... Yes, what a dog ... Every insect understands it, but it just can’t say ... The grass seems to squeak as you crush it ...

The garrulous Fedos was still talking a lot, and Shurka was completely fascinated. But the memory of the duck troubled him, and he said uneasily:

Why don't we go, Chizhik, to see the duck?.. Isn't her leg broken?

No, apparently, nothing ... There she waddles ... I suppose she got better without a fershel? - Fedos laughed and, realizing that the boy was ashamed, stroked his head and added: - She, my brother, is no longer angry ... She forgave ... And tomorrow we will bring her bread if they let us go for a walk ...

Shurka was already in love with Fedos. And often later, in the days of his adolescence and youth, dealing with teachers, he remembered his batman-nanny and found that none of them could compare with Chizhik.

At nine o'clock in the evening, Fedos put Shurka to bed and began to tell him a fairy tale. But the sleepy boy did not finish listening to her and, falling asleep, said:

And I won't offend ducks... Farewell, Chizhik!.. I love you.

That same evening, Fedos began to arrange a corner for himself in the room next to the kitchen.

Taking off his dress and remaining in his underwear and a cotton shirt, he opened his chest, the inner board of which was pasted over with various popular prints and etiquettes from lipstick jars - then there were no oleographs and illustrated editions - and the first thing he took out of the chest was a small darkened icon of Nicholas the Wonderworker and, having crossed himself, hung it to the headboard. Then he hung up a mirror and a towel and, placing his pancake mattress on the goats that replaced the bed, spread it with a sheet and covered it with a cotton blanket.

When everything was ready, he looked around his new corner with satisfaction and, having taken off his shoes, sat down on the bed and lit a pipe ..

Ivan was still busy in the kitchen, having just put away the samovar.

He looked into the room and asked:

Aren't you going to have dinner, Fedos Nikitich?

No I do not want to…

And Anyutka doesn't want to... Apparently, she'll have to have supper alone... Wouldn't you like some tea? I always have sugar! Ivan said, somehow roguishly winking his eye.

Thanks for the tea... I won't...

Well, whatever! - as if offended, said Ivan, leaving.

He did not like his new roommate, he did not like him very much. In turn, Ivan did not like Fedos. Fedos did not like the vestovshchina and orderlies in general, and especially this roguish and impudent cook. He especially did not like the various ambiguous jokes he made at Anyutka's dinner, and Fedos sat in silence and only frowned sternly. Ivan immediately understood why the sailor was angry, and fell silent, trying to impress him with his high manner and boastful talk about how pleased he was and how much he was appreciated by both the lady and the master.

But Fedos remained silent and decided to himself that Ivan was a completely empty person. And for Laika, he called him directly unscrupulous and added:

You would be so scalded. And still considered a sailor!

Ivan laughed it off, but harbored a grudge against Fedos in his heart, especially since he was shamed in the presence of Anyutka, who apparently sympathized with the words of Fedos.

However, go to bed! Fedos said aloud, finishing his pipe.

He got up, solemnly loudly pronounced "Our Father" and, crossing himself, lay down on the bed. But he could not fall asleep for a long time, and thoughts wandered in his head about the past fifteen years of service and about his new position.

“Good boy, but how can I get along with these - with a blonde and a quitter?” he asked himself. In the end, he decided that as God would give, and finally fell asleep, completely reassured by this decision.

Fedos Chizhik, like most of the sailors of that time, when serfdom was still living out last years and in the fleet, as everywhere else, merciless severity and even cruelty in dealing with ordinary people reigned - he was, of course, a great fatalist philosopher.

All the well-being of his life, which mainly consisted in protecting his body from beatings and molts, and his face from serious injuries - he did not chase the lungs and considered them relative well-being - Fedos based not only on the conscientious performance of his difficult sailor's work and on good behavior according to the requirements, and most importantly on "as God wills."

This exceptional hope, not devoid of some touchingness and inherent only in Russian commoners, in the Lord God alone resolved all Fedos’s questions and doubts about his present and future fate and served as almost the only support so that, as Chizhik put it, “not to fall into despair and not try the prisoner mouths.

And thanks to this hope, he remained the same serviceable sailor and stoic, diverting his soul, indignant at human untruth, only with strong abuse and when even the truly Christian patience of a Russian sailor was subjected to a cruel test.

Since Fedos Chizhik, cut off from the plow, was handed over to the recruits due to the whim of the old landowner and, having never seen the sea, ended up in the fleet, solely because of his small stature, Fedos's life represented a rather motley picture of transitions from well-being to trouble, from trouble to that, hardly even understandable now, unbearable life, which the sailors characteristically called "hard labor", and back - from "hard labor" to well-being.

If “God gave”, the commander, senior officer and watch commanders came across in those harsh times not particularly rabid and fought and flogged, as Fedos put it, “not in vain and with reason”, then Fedos, as one of the best Mars officers, felt himself calm and content, not afraid of surprises in the form of molting, and his natural good nature and some humor made him one of the most cheerful storytellers on the tank.

If “God gave” a commander or a senior officer, as they say in sailor jargon, a “uniformed prisoner”, who, for being late for a few seconds when setting or harvesting sails, ordered everyone on Mars to “lower their skins”, then Fedos lost his gaiety, became gloomy and , after he was flogged like Sidorov's goat, it happened that he often went on a walk on the shore. However, he still found it possible to console the discouraged young sailors, and with some strange confidence for a man whose back was completely covered with blue scars with bloody smudges, he said:

God willing, brothers, our prisoner will be transferred to somewhere... Instead of him, not such a devil will act... Let's catch our breath. Not all same tolerate something!

And the sailors believed - they so wanted to believe - that, "God willing", they would remove the "prisoner" somewhere.

And it seemed easier to endure.

Fedos Chizhik enjoyed great prestige both in his company and on the ships on which he sailed, as a correct person, in addition, with intelligence and a dashing marshal, who more than once proved both knowledge of the matter and courage. He was respected and loved for his honesty, kindness and modesty. Young unrequited sailors were especially disposed towards him. Fedos always took these under his protection, protecting them from the boatswains and non-commissioned officers when they were too swaggering and atrocious.

It is noteworthy that in the matter of correcting such boatswains, Fedos somewhat retreated from his fatalism, placing hopes not only on “as God wills”, but also on the strength of human influence, and even, mainly, on the latter.

At least, when Fedos' admonishing word, spoken face to face to some immoderate scuffle boatswain, a word full of convincing passion to pity people, did not make the proper impression and the boatswain continued to fight as before "without any sense", - Fedos usually resorted to warning and said:

Oh, don't be arrogant, boatswain, what a louse in a scab! God does not like the proud. See that you, my brother, are not taught a lesson ... You yourself, I suppose, know how your brother is taught a lesson!

If the boatswain remained deaf to such a warning, Fedos shook his head thoughtfully and frowned severely, apparently making some decision.

Despite his kindness, he, however, in the name of duty and the protection of the unwritten customary sailor's law, gathered several trustworthy sailors for a secret meeting about the actions of the boatswain-beast, and at this sailor's lynch court the decision was usually made: to teach the boatswain a lesson, which was given in execution at the first exit ashore.

The boatswain was beaten somewhere in the lane of Kronstadt or Revel to a pulp and taken to the ship. Usually the boatswain of that time did not even think of complaining about the perpetrators, he explained to his superiors that he had dealt with sailors from foreign merchant ships in a drunken state, and after such a serious "learning" he was already fighting with "great reason", continuing, of course, to swear with his former skill , for which, however, no one was in the claim.

And Fedos in such cases often spoke with his usual good nature:

As learned, so he became a man. A boatswain as a boatswain ...

Fedos himself did not want to be a "boss" - this did not suit his character at all - and he resolutely asked not to be promoted to non-commissioned officer when one of the senior officers with whom he served wanted to introduce Fedos.

Be merciful, your honor, weaken from such a position! Fedos pleaded.

The astonished senior officer asked:

Why?

I am not committed to being an Unterzer, Your Honor. This title is not for me at all, your honor ... Show God's mercy, let me stay in the sailors! - reported Fedos, without explaining, however, the motives of his unwillingness.

Well, if you don't want to, as you know... And I was thinking of rewarding you...

Glad to try, your honor! I am very grateful, your honor, for allowing me to remain a sailor.

And stay "if you're such a fool! the senior officer said.

And Fedos left the senior officer's cabin joyful and pleased that he got rid of the position in which he had to "dog" with his own sailor brother and be in more direct relations with gentlemen officers.

Everything happened during the long service of Fedos. And they flogged and beat him, and praised and distinguished him. The last three years of his service on the "Kopchik", under the command of Vasily Mikhailovich Luzgin, were the most prosperous years. Luzgin and the senior officer were kind people at that time, and the sailors lived relatively well on the Kopcik. There were no daily vices, there was no eternal trembling. There was no senseless naval drill.

Vasily Mikhailovich knew Fedos as an excellent fore-mars and, having chosen him as a rower on his whaleboat, got to know the sailor even better, appreciating his conscientiousness and accuracy.

And Fedos thought that, "God willing," he would serve for another three years with Vasily Mikhailovich quietly and calmly, like in Christ's bosom, and there he would be fired for "indefinite" until the end of the twenty-five-year term of service, and he would go to his distant Simbirsk village, with which he did not break ties and once a year he asked some competent sailor to write a letter to his “dearest parent”, usually consisting of good wishes and bows to all relatives.

The sailor, who at the wrong time gave up the mars-fal below, with which Fedos, who was on the mars, was torn off two fingers, was the unwitting culprit in the change of Chizhik's fate.

The sailor was severely torn off, and Chizhik was immediately sent to the Kronstadt hospital, where both of his fingers were pulled out. He survived the operation without even groaning. He just gritted his teeth, and large drops of sweat rolled down his face, pale from pain. A month later he was in the carriage.

On the occasion of the loss of two fingers, he hoped that, "God willing," he would be appointed to the "incapable" and fired on indefinite leave. At least, that's what the company clerk said and advised to "explore" through someone. There have been such examples!

But there was no one to plead for Fedos, and he himself did not dare to disturb the company commander. No matter how horrible it is.

Thus, Chizhik remained in the service and ended up as a nanny.

A month has passed since Fedos joined the Luzgins.

Needless to say, Shurka was crazy about his nanny, was completely under his influence and, listening to his stories about the storms and hurricanes that Chizhik had experienced, about the sailors and about their lives, about how black people, araps, almost naked walk on distant islands across the Indian Ocean, listening to about dense forests, about outlandish fruits, about monkeys, about crocodiles and sharks, about a wonderful high sky and a hot sun - Shurka himself certainly wanted to be a sailor, but for now he tried to imitate Chizhik in everything, which at the time was his ideal.

With purely childish selfishness, he did not let go of Chizhik, in order to be always together, forgetting even. mother, who since the appearance of Chizhik somehow faded into the background.

Still would! She did not know how to tell stories so entertainingly, did not know how to make such glorious kites, spinning tops and boats that Chizhik made. And in addition to all this, he and Chizhik did not feel a captious nurse over them. They were more like friends, and seemed to live by the same interests, and often, without saying a word, expressed the same opinions.

This intimacy with the batman-sailor somewhat frightened Marya Ivanovna, and a certain estrangement from her mother, which she, of course, noticed, even made her jealous of Shurka for the nurse. In addition, as a former college student and strict zealot of manners, it seemed to Marya Ivanovna that Shurka had become a little rougher under Chizhik and his manners had become more angular.

Nevertheless, Marya Ivanovna could not but admit that Chizhik was conscientiously fulfilling his duties and that under him Shurka had become much healthier, was not capricious and nervous, as she used to be, and she calmly left the house, knowing that she could completely rely on Chizhik .

But, despite such recognition of Chizhik's merits, he was still unsympathetic to the young woman. She tolerated Fedos only for the sake of the child and treated him with arrogant coldness and almost undisguised contempt of the mistress for the lousy sailor. The main thing that resented her in the batman was the lack of that respectful obsequiousness in him, which she loved in the servants and which was especially distinguished by her favorite Ivan. And in Fedos - no friendliness. Always somewhat gloomy in her presence, answering her questions with the official laconicism of a subordinate, always silent on her remarks, which, according to Chizhik, the “blonde” did in vain - he far from met the requirements of Marya Ivanovna, and she felt that this sailor was secretly far from recognizing her authority and does not at all feel gratitude for all the good deeds that, it seemed to the mistress, he received when he got into their house from the barracks. This angered the lady.

Chizhik also felt this attitude toward himself as a “blond-haired” one, and he himself, in turn, did not like her, and mainly because she completely oppressed poor, unresponsive Anyutka, poking her for every little thing, confusing her with shouts and often giving slaps on her cheeks - and not only from the ardor, but downright from evil heart, so coolly and with a smile.

"Eka feisty witch!" - Fedos thought to himself more than once, frowning his eyebrows and becoming gloomy, when he witnessed how the “white-haired one”, slowly fixing her big gray and angry eyes on Anyutka frozen in fear, whips her white plump hand in rings on the girl’s thin, pale cheeks .

And he felt sorry for Anyutka - perhaps even more than he felt sorry for - this pretty, driven girl with a frightened look blue eyes; and it happened when the mistress was not at home, he would affectionately say to her:

Don't be shy, Annushka... God willing, don't endure it for long... You hear, soon everyone's will will be announced. Be patient, and there you will go wherever you want, from your witch. God made a king!

These sympathetic words invigorated Anyutka and filled her heart with a grateful feeling for Chizhik. She understood that he was sorry for her, and she saw that it was only thanks to Chizhik that the nasty Ivan was not as impudent as before, pursuing her with his courtesies.

On the other hand, Ivan hated Fedos with all the strength of his petty soul and, in addition, was jealous of him, partly attributing to Chizhik Anyutka's complete inattention to his person, whom he considered quite attractive.

This hatred intensified even more after Fedos once found Anyutka in the kitchen, fighting off the cook's embrace.

When Fedos appeared, Ivan immediately left the girl and, assuming a nonchalantly cheeky air, said:

I joke with a fool, but she gets angry ...

Fedos became darker than a black cloud.

Without saying a word, he came close to Ivan and, raising his hefty hairy fist to his pale, frightened face, barely restraining himself from indignation, said:

The cowardly Ivan closed his eyes in fear at such a close proximity of such a huge fist.

I’ll make dough from your vile haila if you touch the girl again, you scoundrel!

I, really, nothing ... I'm just like that ... I was joking, so ...

I’ll… tell you a joke… Is it possible to offend a person like that, you shameless dog?

And, turning to Anyutka, grateful and excited, he continued:

You tell me, Annushka, just tell me if he sticks ... His red muzzle will be on the side ... That's right!

With these words, he left the kitchen.

That evening Anyutka whispered to Fedos:

Well, now this despicable man is going to trick you even more, mistress... He has already tricked you... I heard from behind the doors of the third day... he says: you supposedly stank of shag all over the kitchen...

Let him slander! - contemptuously threw Fedos. - Shouldn't I smoke pipes, too? he added, smiling.

Lady passion does not like simple tobacco ...

And don't love yourself! I don’t smoke in rooms, but in my room, that means… A sailor can’t live without a pipe either.

After this incident, Ivan at all costs wanted to kill the hated Fedos, and, realizing that the lady did not like Chizhik, at every opportunity he began to whisper to the lady about Fedos.

He, they say, treats the little gentleman quite freely, not like a servant, he doesn’t even feel the lady’s kindness, he often whispers something with Anyutka ... It’s even a shame.

All this was said in hints, assumptions, accompanied by assurances of his devotion to the mistress.

The young woman listened to all this and became even more severe and captious with Chizhik. She vigilantly watched him and Anyutka, often casually entered the nursery, asked Shurka what Chizhik was talking to him about, but she could not find any serious evidence of Fedos' crime, and this angered the young woman even more, all the more that Fedos, as if not noticing that the mistress was angry with him, did not change his official relations in the least.

"God willing, the fair-haired one is leaving," thought Fedos, when involuntary anxiety sometimes crept into his heart at the sight of her displeased, stern face.

But the "blonde" did not cease to find fault with Chizhik, and soon a thunderstorm broke out over him.

One Saturday, when Fedos, who had just returned from the bathhouse, went to put the boy to bed, Shurka, who always shared his impressions with his pet foster and told him all the home news, immediately said:

You know what I'll tell you, Chizhik? ..

Tell me, I'll find out, ”Fedos said, smiling.

Tomorrow we are going to St. Petersburg ... to my grandmother. Do you know grandma?

I don't know.

She is kind, kind, like you, Chizhik ... She is my father's mother ... We are going with the first steamer ...

Well, it's a good thing, my brother. And you will see your good grandmother, and you will ride on a steamer ... It seems like you will visit the sea ...

When alone, Fedos almost always said "you" to Shurka. And the boy liked this very much and was in full accordance with their friendly relations and mutual affection. But in the presence of Marya Ivanovna, Chizhik did not allow himself such familiarity: both Fedos and Shurka understood that it was impossible to show their intimate brevity in their mother's presence.

“Probably, he will cling,” Fedos reasoned, “say, a master's child, and the sailor pokes him. It is known, fanabery mistress!

You, Chizhik, wake me up early. And prepare a new jacket and new boots ...

I will make everything, be calm ... I will polish my boots in the best possible way ... One word, I will let you go in full dress ... You will be so well done, that our respect to you! - Chizhik said cheerfully and lovingly, undressing Shurka. - Well, now pray to God, Leksandra Vasilyich.

Shurka read a prayer and slipped under the covers.

And I won’t wake you up early,” Chizhik continued, sitting down near Shurka’s bed: “I’ll wake you up at half past seven, otherwise, without sleeping, it’s not good ...

And little Adya goes, and Anyutka goes, but your mother won't take you, Chizhik. I already asked my mother to take you with us, she doesn’t want to ...

Why take me? Extra expense.

It would be more fun with you.

I suppose you won’t get bored without me ... It’s not a problem for you to be without Chizhik for a day ... And I myself will ask from the yard. I also like to take a walk ... What do you think?

Go, go, Chizhik! Mama will let you...

Something should have been let in ... During the whole month I never went out of the yard ...

And where are you going, Chizhik?

Where will I go? And first I’ll go to the church, and then I’ll turn to the boatswain’s godmother… Her husband is an old friend of mine… We went to the distant together… I’ll sit with them… We’ll chat… And then I’ll go to the pier, I’ll have a look at the sailors… Here’s a party… However, sleep, Christ is with you !

Farewell, Chizhik! And I’ll bring you a gift from my grandmother ... She always gives ...

Eat to your health, little dove! .. And if you don’t regret it, it’s better to give Anyutka ... She’s more flattering.

Shurka always treated his tutor with delicacies, and often sewed lumps of sugar for him. But Chizhik refused them and asked Shurka not to take the "master's supply" so that no slander would come out.

And now, touched by the attention of the boy, he spoke with the tenderness that only his rough voice was capable of:

Thank you for your kindness, dear ... Thank you ... You, the boy, have a kind heart ... And prudent for your stupid age ... and simple ... God willing, as you grow up, you will be a uniform person ... correct ... You won’t hurt anyone ... And God for that will love you ... So, brother, it's better ... Did he fall asleep at all?

There was no answer. Shura was already asleep.

Chizhik crossed the boy and quietly left the room.

His soul was light and calm, like that child, to whom the old sailor, who did not know affection, became attached with all the strength of his loving heart.

The next morning, when Luzgina, in a smart blue silk dress, with a fluffy bouffant of light blond hair, fresh, ruddy, lush and fragrant, with bracelets and rings on her plump white hands, hurriedly drank coffee, fearing to miss the steamer, Fedos approached her and said:

Allow me, lady, to leave the court today.

The young woman raised her eyes to the sailor and asked indignantly:

Why are you leaving the yard?

At first, Fedos did not know how to answer such a “completely stupid” question, in his opinion.

To acquaintances means to go, - he answered after a pause.

And what are your friends?

Known, sailor rank ...

You can go, - the lady said after a moment's reflection. - Just remember what I told you... Don't come back from your friends drunk! she added sternly.

Why drunk? I'll be back in my form, mistress!

Without your stupid explanations! By seven o'clock be at home! said the young woman sharply.

Listen, lady! Fedos answered with official deference.

Shura looked at his mother in surprise. He was decidedly perplexed why his mother was angry and did not love such a lovely person as Chizhik at all, and, on the contrary, he never scolded the nasty Ivan. Ivan and Shurka did not like him, despite his flattering and ingratiating treatment of the young barchuk.

After seeing the gentlemen off and exchanging farewell greetings with Shurka, Fedos took out from the depths of his chest a rag in which his capital was kept - several rubles he had accumulated for sewing boots. Chizhik sewed boots well and even knew how to sew with style, as a result of which, it happened, he received orders from clerks, sub-skippers and battalions.

After examining his capital, Fedos took out one greasy ruble note from a rag, hid it in his pants pocket, counting on this money to buy himself an eighth of tea, a pound of sugar and a supply of shag, and carefully putting the rest of the money in a rag, again hid it in a corner of the chest and locked key chest.

Adjusting the light in the lamp in front of the icon at the head of the head, Fedos combed his jet-black sideburns and mustaches, put on new boots and, dressed in a sailor's uniform gray overcoat with brightly lit copper buttons and putting on his cap a little to one side, cheerful and satisfied, left the kitchen. .

Will you have something to eat at home? - Ivan threw after him.

I won't!..

“What an uneducated sailor! How to eat stuffed,” Ivan mentally admonished Fedos.

And he himself, smartly dressed in a gray jacket, in a white shirt-front, the collar of which was tied with an unusually bright tie, with a bronze chain on his waistcoat, looking out the window at the passing Chizhik, contemptuously protruded his thick lips, shook his shaggy head with red hair, richly oiled cow's butter, and a light gleamed in his small eyes.

Fedos first went to St. Andrew's Cathedral and just got to the beginning of the service.

Having bought a penny candle and made his way forward, he lit a candle near the image of Saint Nicholas and, returning, stood completely behind, in a crowd of poor people. Throughout Mass he remained serious and concentrated, trying to direct his thoughts to the divine, and diligently and earnestly overshadowed himself with a broad, sweeping sign of the cross. When reading the gospel, he was touched, although not everyone understood what they were reading. He was touched by the harmonious singing of the choristers and was generally in high spirits of a man who had renounced all sorts of worldly squabbles.

And, listening to the singing, listening to the words of love and mercy uttered by the soft tenor of the priest, Fedos was carried away somewhere into a special world, and it seemed to him that there, "in the next world", it would be unusually good for him and all the sailors, much better, what was on the sinful earth ...

Morally satisfied and, as it were, inwardly radiant, Fedos came out of the church at the end of the service and on the porch, where beggars crowded on both sides and on the sides of the steps of the stairs, gave ten people a penny each, giving mainly to men and the elderly.

Still busy with various, as he called it, “divine” thoughts about the fact that the Lord sees everything and if he allows untruth in the world, then most of all for testing a person, preparing the best future life for the victim on earth, which, of course, cannot be seen like the ears of his uniformed "prisoners" of captains and officers, - Chizhik walked quickly into one of the distant alleys, where the retired boatswain Flegont Nilych and his wife Avdotya Petrovna, who had a stall with all sorts of small things in the market, rented a room in a small wooden house.

The short and thin old man Nilych, still vigorous in appearance, despite his more than sixty years, was sitting at a table covered with a colored tablecloth in a clean cotton shirt, wide trousers and shoes put on his bare feet, and with a slightly trembling bony hand poured with prudent caution from a half-shtof into a glass of vodka.

And in the expression of his wrinkled, senile-colored face with a hooked nose and a large wart on his cheek, shaved on the occasion of Sunday, and small, still lively eyes, there was so much concentrated reverent attention that Nilych did not even notice Fedos enter through the door.

And Fedos, as if understanding the importance of this sacred rite, made his presence known only when the glass was filled to the brim and Nilych drained it with visible pleasure.

Flegont Nilych - the lowest! Happy holiday!

Ah, Fedos Nikitich! Nilych exclaimed cheerfully, as all his acquaintances called him, shaking hands with Fedos. - Sit down, brother, now Avdotya Petrovna will bring shti ...

And, pouring another glass, he brought it to Fedot.

Brother, I'm already screwed.

Be healthy, Nilych! - said Chizhik and, slowly drinking a glass, grunted.

And where did you disappear to? .. I already wanted to go to the barracks ... I think: I completely forgot us ... And also godfather ...

He got into orderlies, Nilych ...

To batmen?.. To whom?..

To Luzgin, captain of the second rank ... Maybe you heard?

I heard... Wow... Well, mow! .. secondarily? ..

And Nilych poured another glass.

Be healthy, Nilych! ..

Be healthy, Fedos! said Nilych, drinking in his turn.

It’s nothing to live with him, only his wife, I’ll tell you ...

Something itchy?

As there is a splinter, and furious. Well, he thinks a lot about himself. He thinks that white and vigorous, so it’s better not ...

What part are you in?

In nannies with barchuk. A nice little boy, a sincere little boy ... If it were not for this very splinter, it would be easy to live ... And she commands everything in the house ...

That's what she has like bytto watchman. Before her, and not peep, but, it seems, with the mind of a man ... Completely in humility.

It happens, my brother! Happens! - drawled Nilych.

He himself, once a dashing boatswain and a "man of reason", was also under the command of his wife, although he swaggered in front of strangers, trying to show that he was not at all afraid of her.

Give yourself only to the woman in the hands, she will show you Kuz'kin's mother. It is known that there is no real reason in a woman, but only one nonsense, ”continued Nilych, lowering his voice and at the same time cautiously looking at the doors. - Baba must be kept in line so that the authorities understand. Yes, what is my digging? Go shove her!..

But at that moment the door opened and Avdotya Petrovna entered the room, a healthy, stout, and tall woman of about fifty with a very energetic face that still retained remnants of its former beauty. It was enough to look at this imposing person to leave any thought that the short and wizened Nilych, who seemed very small in front of his wife, could “shug” her. In her rolled up red hands was a pot of cabbage soup wrapped in rags. She herself was on fire.

And I thought: with whom is Nilych chattering? .. And this is Fedos Nikitich! .. Hello, Fedos Nikitich ... And they forgot that! said the boatswain in a thick, low voice.

And putting the pot on the table, she held out her hand to the godfather and threw it to Nilych:

Did you give it to a guest?

But how? Don't worry, you weren't expected!

Avdotya Petrovna glanced at Nilych, as if marveling at his agility, and poured cabbage soup on plates, from which steam came and smelled delicious. Then she took two more glasses from the cupboard and filled all three.

What is right is right! Petrovna, my brother, you are a sensible woman! Nilych remarked, not without a flattering note, looking tenderly at the vodka.

You are welcome, Fedos Nikitich, - suggested the boatswain.

Chizhik didn't refuse.

Be healthy, Avdotya Petrovna! Be healthy, Nilych!

Bless you, Fedos Nikitich.

Be healthy, Fedos!

All three had drunk, all had serious and somewhat solemn faces. Having crossed themselves, they began to sip cabbage soup in silence. Only distributed from time to time low voice Avdotya Petrovna:

Welcome!

After the cabbage soup, the half-damask was empty.

The boatswain went for some fried meat and, returning, put another half-damask on the table along with a piece of meat.

Nilych, apparently overwhelmed by such nobility of his wife, exclaimed:

Yes, Fedos... Petrovna, one word...

By the end of dinner the conversation became more lively. Nilych was already twirling his tongue and softened. The chizhik and the boatswain, both red, were pecking, but did not lose their dignity in the least.

Fedos talked about the “white-haired one,” about how she oppresses Anyutka and what a vile orderly Ivan they have, and philosophized about the fact that God sees everything and probably Luzginikha will be in hell if she doesn’t come to her senses and remember God.

What do you think, Avdotya Petrovna?

There will be no other place for her, you bastards! - energetically cut off the boatswain. - A familiar washerwoman also told me what an vinegar bitch she was ...

Probably, there, in hell, it means that it will be polished in the best possible way ... From-po-li-ru-yut! Do me a favor! No worse than in the Navy! - put in Nilych, who apparently had an idea of ​​\u200b\u200bhell as a place where they would flog as desperately as on ships. - And bloody the face of the cook. Then he will not slander.

And I will bleed, if necessary ... A completely rabid dog. You won't learn well! Chizhik said and remembered Anyutka.

Petrovna began to complain about things. Nowadays, vile traders have become completely, especially from the young. So they strive to beat off the buyer from under the nose.

A man's well-known business. A sailor and a soldier climbs to young merchants like a perch on a worm. He will buy for two kopecks, and himself, shameless, strives to steal a woman for a ruble ... And the other vile woman is glad ... So she twirls and twirls ...

And, as if remembering some kind of unpleasantness, Petrovna assumed a somewhat warlike air, leaning her side on her strong arm, and exclaimed:

And I endure, endure, and I scratch my eyes with a black man with a black man! Do you know Glashka? .. - the boatswain turned to Chizhik. - Your sailor's crew ... Mars Kovshikov's wife? ..

I know ... Why do you, Avdotya Petrovna, want to teach Glashka a lesson?

And for the very fact that she is vile! That's why... I'm getting buyers wrong... Yesterday an anti-allergist came up to me... A man already at such an age that the old devil has nothing to sort out woman's meanness... In the next world, he already has a ration ready... Well, he went to the stall - so according to the rules, it means that my buyer is already, and every honest tradeswoman should stop tearing her throat at the call ... And instead, Glashka, the bastard, puffs her chest to flatter the antillerist, and howls in her voice: “Come to me, cavalier! Come to me, brave soldier! .. I'll sell it cheaper! And he bares his teeth, looking fat... And what would you think?.. The old, shabby dog ​​gleamed that the young woman called him, a fool, a brave soldier, and to her... I bought it from her. Well, I brushed them both off: both the anti-llerist and Glashka!

Fedos, and especially Nilych, knew very well that Petrovna, in moments of excitement, swore no worse than any boatswain, and could seem to get through anyone. No wonder everyone in the market - both traders and buyers - was afraid of her language.

However, out of delicacy, the men remained silent.

I will gouge out her eyes without fail, if Glashka dares once again! repeated Petrovna.

I suppose she won't dare!.. With such a mental woman, one might say, she won't dare! Nilych said.

And, despite the fact that he was already quite "reefed" and barely spun his tongue, however, he discovered a diplomatic trick, starting to praise the virtues of his wife ... She, they say, is both of great intelligence and economic, and feeds her husband ... in a word, such a different woman cannot be found all over Kronstadt. Then he hinted that if now a glass of beer would be the best deal ... Only a glass ...

What do you think about it, Petrovna? Nilych said in a pleading tone.

Look, you old bastard... what is he driving up to!

However, Petrovna spoke these speeches without a heart, and, apparently, she herself considered that beer was not a bad thing, because she soon put a handkerchief on her head and left the room.

A few minutes later she returned, and several bottles of beer flaunted on the table.

And the nimble woman Petrovna, I'll tell you, Fedos ... Oh, what a woman! - Nilych repeated in drunken emotion after two glasses of beer.

Look, it's already broken! said Petrovna, not without condescending contempt.

Did I get pissed off? The old boatswain?.. Bring a couple more bottles... I'll drink it alone... In the meantime, go ahead, dear wife, another glass...

Will be with you...

Petrovna! Respect your spouse...

I'm not giving it! Petrovna answered sharply.

Nilych assumed an offended look.

It was already five o'clock when Fedos, having said goodbye to the hosts and thanked for the treat, went out into the street. His head was noisy, but he stepped firmly and with a special affectation stood in the front and saluted when meeting with the officers. And he was in the most good-natured mood and for some reason felt sorry for everyone. And he took pity on Anyutka, and he took pity on the little girl he met on the road, and he took pity on the cat that darted past him, and he took pity on the passing officers. They go, they say, but they don’t understand that they are unhappy ... They forgot God, but he, father, sees everything ...

Having made the necessary purchases, Fedos went to the Petrovsky pier, met acquaintances among the rowers on the boats waiting for the officers, talked with them, found out that the "Kopchik" was now in Revel, and at seven o'clock in the evening he headed home.

Laika greeted Chizhik with joyful chatter.

Hello, Laechka ... Hello, brother! - he affectionately greeted the dog and began to stroke it ... - What, did they feed you? .. I suppose they forgot, huh? Wait... I'll bring you... Tea, there's something in the kitchen...

Ivan sat in the kitchen by the window and played the accordion.

At the sight of Fedos, who had drunk, he smiled with a satisfied look and said:

It was a nice walk?

Went for a walk...

And, regretting that Ivan was sitting at home alone, he added:

Go and take a walk until the gentlemen return, and I will guard the house ...

Where can I go for a walk now ... Seven hours! The gentlemen will be back soon.

Your business. And you give me the bones, if there is ...

Take it... There they lie...

Chizhik took the bones, took them to the dog, and, returning, sat down in the kitchen, and suddenly said:

And you, my brother, it’s better to live in a good way ... Right ... And don’t let yourself be forced ... We’ll all die, but in the next world, you won’t be asked for forgiveness, my dear.

This is you in what, for example, senses?

And in all sorts ... And don’t pester Anyutka ... You can’t force a girl, but you yourself see, she runs away from you ... You’d better chase after another ... It’s a sin to hurt a girl ... And she’s so beaten! Chizhik continued in an affectionate tone. - And all of us can live without strife ... I tell you without any heart ...

Isn't Anyutka attracted to you, that you stand up so much? .. - the cook said mockingly.

Stupid! .. I'm good enough for her father, and not that what meanness to think.

However, Chizhik did not continue the conversation in this direction and was somewhat embarrassed.

Meanwhile, Ivan spoke in an insinuating tenor voice:

I, Fedos Nikitich, myself do not want anything better than to live, that means, in full agreement with you ... You yourself neglect me ...

And you quit your fort… Remember that you are a man of the rank of a sailor, and no one will neglect you… That’s right, brother… Otherwise, hanging around in batmen, you completely forgot your conscience… You’re slandering the lady… Is that good? Oh, this is not good... Wrong...

At that moment the bell rang. Ivan rushed to open the door. Fedos also went to meet Shurka.

Marya Ivanovna looked at Fedos intently and said:

You are drunk!..

Shurka, who wanted to run up to Chizhik, was sharply pulled by the hand.

Don't go near him... He's drunk!

No, madam... I'm not drunk at all... Why do you think I'm drunk?... I'm properly dressed and can handle everything... And I'll put Lexandra Vasilich to bed and tell a fairy tale... And what I drank a little... that's for sure ... At the boatswain Nilych ... In the very pleportia ... in good conscience.

Get out! cried Marya Ivanovna. - I'll talk to you tomorrow.

Mom ... mom ... Let Chizhik lay me down!

I'll take you myself! A drunk can't lay down.

Shura burst into tears.

Shut up, you ugly boy! - his mother shouted at him ... - And you, drunkard, what are you standing for? Go to the kitchen now and go to bed.

Oh, lady, lady! Chizhik said with an expression that was either reproachful or regretful, and left the room.

Shura didn't stop crying. Ivan smiled triumphantly.

The next morning, Chizhik, who got up, as usual, at six o'clock, was in a gloomy mood. Luzgina's promise to "talk" to him today, according to Fedos, did not bode well. He had long seen that the mistress could not stand him, finding fault with him in vain, and with anxiety in his heart he guessed what kind of "conversation" this would be. He guessed and became gloomier, at the same time realizing his complete helplessness and dependence on the “blonde”, who for some reason became his superiors and could do whatever she wanted with him.

“The main reason is angry at me, and there is no mind in her to understand a person!”

This is how the old sailor thought about Luzgin, and at that moment did not console himself with the realization that she would be in hell in the next world, but in his mind, rather energetically, scolded Luzgin himself for giving free rein to such a "feisty witch" as this fair-haired one. He really should have subdued her, and he...

Fedos went out into the yard, sat down on the porch and, rather agitated, smoked pipe after pipe, waiting for the samovar he had set up for himself to boil.

Life has already begun in the yard. The rooster now and then cried out like a madman, welcoming a joyful, fine morning. Sparrows were chirping and robins were chirping in the verdant garden. The swallows rushed back and forth, hiding for a moment in their nests, and again flew out in search of prey.

But today Fedos did not look at everything around him with the usual joyful feeling. And when Laika, who had just woken up, got to her feet and, stretching her whole body, ran up to Chizhik wagging her tail merrily, he greeted her, stroked her and, as if answering the thoughts that occupied him, spoke, turning to the caressing dog :

Also, brother, and our life is like your dog's ... What kind of owner will come across ...

Returning to the kitchen, Fedos looked contemptuously at Ivan, who had just risen, and, not wanting to reveal his anxious state in front of him, assumed a calmly stern look. Yesterday he saw how Ivan was gloating at the time when the mistress was shouting, and, paying no attention to him, began to drink tea.

Anyutka came into the kitchen, sleepy, unwashed, with a blush on her pale cheeks, with her mistress's dress and boots in her hands. She greeted Fedos somehow especially affectionately after yesterday's story and did not nod even in response to the cook's kind greeting of good morning.

Chizhik offered Anyutka a cup of tea and gave her a piece of sugar. She hastily drank two cups and, thanking him, got up.

Drink more... There is sugar, - said Fedos.

Thank you, Fedos Nikitich. We must clean the lady's dress as soon as possible. And unequally the child wakes up ...

Let me, perhaps, clean it, and for now, help yourself to tea!

You are not asked! Anyutka abruptly interrupted the cook and left the kitchen.

Look, how angry, please tell me! - Ivan threw after her.

And, blushing with vexation, he looked frowningly at Chizhik and, smiling, thought:

“It will be for you today, sailor!”

Exactly at eight o'clock Chizhik went to wake up Shurka. Shurka had already woken up and, remembering yesterday, he himself was unhappy and met Fedos with the words:

Don't be afraid, Chizhik... Nothing will happen to you!..

He wanted to console both himself and his pet, although in his heart he was far from sure that nothing would happen to Chizhik.

Be afraid - do not be afraid, but what God will give! - answered, suppressing a sigh, Fedos. - With what other legs mother will get up! he added grimly.

Like which leg?

And so it is said. In what, then, character will it be ... But only your mother in vain believes that I was drunk yesterday ... Drunk people are not like that. If a person can do his job properly, what kind of drunkard is he? ..

Shura fully agreed with this and said:

And yesterday I told my mother that you weren’t drunk at all, Chizhik ... Anton wasn’t like that ... He swayed when he walked, but you didn’t sway at all ...

That's what it is ... You're a youngster and you realized that I was in my form ... I, brother, know the measure ... And your daddy would not have done anything if he saw me yesterday. He would have seen that I drank in a pleportia ... He understands that it’s not a sin for a sailor to take a walk on a holiday ... And there’s no harm from that, but your mother was angry. For what? What did I do to her?

I will ask my mother not to be angry with you ... Believe me, Chizhik ...

I believe, my dear, I believe ... You are a Dober ... Well, now go drink tea, and I'll clean your room for now, ”Chizhik said when Shurka was ready.

But Shurka, before leaving, slipped Chizhik an apple and candy and said:

This is for you, Chizhik. I left Anyutka too.

Oh, thanks. Only I'd better hide it ... After that, you eat to your health.

No, no ... Be sure to eat ... Sweet apple. And I will ask my mother not to be angry with you, Chizhik ... I will ask! Shura repeated again.

And with these words, preoccupied and alarmed, he left the nursery.

Look, after all - a child, but you can feel what a mother is like! - whispered Fedos and began to clean the room with some zealous bitterness.

Not even five minutes had passed when Anyutka ran into the nursery and, swallowing down her tears, said:

Fedos Nikitich! The lady is calling you!

Why are you crying?

Now she beat me and threatens to whip me ...

Look, witch! .. For what?

It’s true, this vile man told her something ... She was in the kitchen now and returned furious, deceiving ...

A mean person always listens to a mean person.

And you, Fedos Nikitich, better apologize for yesterday ... Otherwise, she ...

Why should I blame! - Fedos said gloomily and went to the dining room.

Indeed, Mrs. Luzgina probably got up on her left foot today, because she was sitting at the table gloomy and angry. And when Chizhik appeared in the dining room and respectfully stretched out before the young lady, she looked at him with such angry and cold eyes that the gloomy Fedos became even gloomier.

The embarrassed Shurka froze in anticipation of something terrible and looked imploringly at his mother. Tears stood in his eyes.

Several seconds passed in painful silence.

Probably, the young woman was waiting for Chizhik to ask for forgiveness for being drunk and daring to answer boldly.

But the old sailor did not seem to feel guilty at all.

And this "insensitivity" of the impudent "moon", apparently not recognizing the authority of the lady, angered the young woman, who was accustomed to the servility of those around her, even more.

Do you remember what happened yesterday? she finally said in a quiet voice, slowly rapping out the words.

I remember everything, lady. I wasn't drunk so I don't remember.

Was not? - stretched, smiling evilly, the lady. - You probably think that only the one who is lying on the ground is drunk? ..

Fedos was silent: what, they say, to answer nonsense!

What did I tell you when I took you as a batman? Did I tell you not to dare to drink? Did you say? .. Why are you standing like a stump? .. Answer!

They spoke.

Did Vasily Mikhailovich tell you to obey me and not dare to be rude? Said? she interrogated Luzgin in the same even, impassive voice.

They said.

Do you listen to orders like that?.. I will teach you how to talk to the mistress... I will show you how to present yourself as a quiet man and surreptitiously start tricks... I see... I know everything! added Marya Ivanovna, throwing a glance at Anyutka.

Here Fedos could not stand it.

It’s in vain, mistress ... As before the Lord God I say that I didn’t start any tricks ... And if you listen to slander and slander of your scoundrel cook, then as you please ... He will tell you something else! Chizhik said.

Be silent! How dare you talk to me like that?! Anyutka! Bring me pen, ink and note paper!

Go away! his mother yelled at him.

Mom... mommy... dear... good... If you love me... don't send Chizhik to the carriage...

And, completely shaken, Shurka rushed to his mother and, sobbing, clung to her hand.

Fedos felt a tickle in his throat. And his gloomy face brightened in grateful tenderness.

Get out!.. None of your business!

And with these words she pushed the boy away... Startled, still not believing his mother's decision, he stepped aside and wept.

Luzgina at this time quickly and nervously wrote a note to the crew adjutant. In this note, she asked "not to refuse her a small favor" - to order her batman to be whipped for drunkenness and insolence. At the end of the note, she said that tomorrow she was going to Oranienbaum to music and hoped that Mikhail Alexandrovich would not refuse to accompany her.

Having sealed the envelope, she gave it to Chizhik and said:

Now go to the carriage and give this letter to the adjutant!

Shurka rushed to his mother.

Mommy... you won't do it... Chizhik!.. Wait... don't go! He is wonderful ... glorious ... Mommy! .. dear ... dear ... Don't send him! Shura pleaded.

Go! shouted Luzgina to the batman. - I know that you taught a stupid boy ... Did you think to pity me? ..

I did not teach, but God! Remember him someday, mistress! - Fedos said with a kind of stern solemnity, and throwing a look full of love at Shurka, he left the room.

You, then, are nasty ... evil ... I don’t love you! Shura suddenly shouted, seized with indignation and indignant at such injustice. And I will never love you! he added, flashing his tear-stained little eyes.

What are you?! What did that bastard teach you?! You dare to talk to your mother like that?

Chizhik is not a bastard ... He is good, and you ... are not good! Shurka continued in a frenzied courage of despair.

So I'll teach you how to talk to me, you nasty boy! Anyutka! Tell Ivan to bring the rods...

Well... seki... nasty... evil... Seki!.. - Shurka yelled in some kind of wild exasperation.

And at the same time, his face was covered with deathly pallor, his whole body trembled, and his large eyes with dilated pupils looked at the doors with an expression of horror ...

The soul-rending cries of the punished child reached the ears of Fedos when he left the yard, having a note behind the cuff of his greatcoat sleeve, the content of which left no doubt in the sailor.

Full of feelings of love and compassion, at that moment he forgot that he himself would have to be whipped at the end of the service, and, touched, pitied only the boy. And he felt that this barchuk, who was not afraid to suffer for his tutor, from now on became even dearer to him and completely took possession of his heart.

Look, you vile one! Even my own child did not regret! - said Chizhik indignantly and added a step so as not to hear this childish cry, now plaintive, pleading, then turning into some kind of roar of a hunted, helpless animal.

The young midshipman, who was sitting in the crew office, was surprised to read Luzgina's note. He had previously served in the same company as Chizhik and knew that Chizhik was considered one of the best sailors in the crew and had never been a drunkard or a rude man.

What are you, Chizhik? Did you start drinking?

No, your honor...

However… Marya Ivanovna writes…

That's right, your honor...

So what's the matter, explain.

Yesterday I drank a little, your honor, having asked leave from the yard, and returned properly, in its present form ... in full, therefore, reason, your honor ...

And to Mrs. Luzgina, pretend that I am drunk ... It is known that, according to her feminine concept, she did not judge what a drunk person is ...

Well, what about insolence? .. You were rude to her?

And there was no rudeness, your honor ... And as for her cook-batman, I said that she listens to his vile slander, that's for sure ...

And Chizhik truthfully told how it was.

The midshipman was thoughtful for several minutes. He was acquainted with Maria Ivanovna, at one time was even indifferent to her and knew that this lady was very strict and captious with the servants and that her husband quite often sent orderlies to the carriage for punishment - of course, at the insistence of his wife, since everyone in Kronstadt knew that Luzgin, himself a gentle and kind man, was under the shoe of the beautiful Marya Ivanovna.

But all the same, Chizhik, I must fulfill the request of Marya Ivanovna, ”the young officer finally said, looking away from Chizhik with a somewhat embarrassed look.

I'm listening, your honor.

You understand, Chizhik, I must ... - the midshipman emphasized the word "should", - believe her. And Vasily Mikhailovich asked that his wife's demands for the punishment of orderlies be fulfilled as his own.

Chizhik understood only that he would be flogged at the request of the “blonde”, and was silent.

I'm here, Chizhik, nothing to do with it! - the midshipman seemed to justify himself.

He clearly realized that he was doing an unjust and lawless deed, intending to punish the sailor at the request of the lady, and that, according to duty and conscience, he should not do it, if he had at least a little courage. But he was a weak man and, like all weak people, he reassured himself that if he did not punish Chizhik now, then upon returning from Luzgin's voyage, the sailor would be punished even more mercilessly. In addition, you will have to quarrel with Luzgin and, perhaps, have trouble with the crew commander: the latter was friendly with Luzgin, secretly, it seems, even sighed for the mistress, who seduced the old sailor, like a matchstick thin, mainly with his magnificent camp, and, not distinguished by great humanity, he found that it never bothers a sailor to "pour in."

And the young officer ordered the duty officer to prepare everything that was needed in the arsenal for punishment.

A bench was immediately set up in the large arsenal. Two non-commissioned officers with intensely dissatisfied faces stood at the sides, each holding a thick bundle of fresh green rods. The same bunches lay on the floor - in case you need to change the rods.

The midshipman, who had not yet been fully tempered, had not served long in the fleet, and slightly agitated, stood at a distance.

Realizing the injustice of the impending punishment, Chizhik, with a kind of sullen resignation, feeling shame and at the same time the shame of offended human dignity, began to undress unusually hastily, as if he was embarrassed that he was making both these two well-known non-commissioned officers and the young midshipman.

Remaining in only his shirt, Chizhik crossed himself and lay face down on the bench, resting his head on his folded arms, and immediately screwed up his eyes.

He had not been punished for a long time, and this second or two, in anticipation of a blow, was full of inexpressible longing from the consciousness of his helplessness and humiliation ... His whole bleak life flashed before him.

Meanwhile, the midshipman called one of the non-commissioned officers to him and whispered:

Take it easy!

The non-commissioned officer brightened up and whispered the same to his comrade.

Get started! commanded the young man, turning away.

After a dozen blows, which caused almost no pain to Chizhik, since these green rods, after an energetic swing, barely touched his body, the midshipman shouted:

Enough! Come to me later, Chizhik!

And with these words he left.

Chizhik, still gloomy, feeling ashamed despite the comedy of punishment, dressed hastily and said:

Thank you, brothers, for not beating me... I got off with nothing but shame...

This adjutant ordered. And why did they send you, Fedos Nikitich?

And for the fact that I now have a stupid and angry woman like a chief boss ...

Who is this?..

Luzginikh…

Famous live-bearer! Often sends batmen here! - noticed one of the non-commissioned officers. How are you going to live with her now?

As God wills... We have to live... There's nothing to be done... Yes, and her little boy, who has me as a nanny, is glorious... And it's a pity to leave him, brothers... Because of me and he was flogged... He interceded, that means, before his mother...

Look at you ... Not in the mother, then.

Not at all like ... Dober - passion!

Chizhik appeared in the office and went into the office where the adjutant was sitting. He handed Chizhik a letter and said:

Give it to Marya Ivanovna... I am writing to her that you have been severely punished...

Thank you very much for taking pity on the old sailor, your honor! Chizhik said with feeling.

Well, I ... I, brother, am not a beast ... I wouldn’t punish you at all ... I know what a serviceable and good sailor you are! said the midshipman, still embarrassed. - Well, go to your mistress ... God grant you get along with her ... Yes, look ... do not talk about how you were punished! - added midshipman.

Don't hesitate! Happy staying, your honor!

Shurka sat huddled in the corner of the nursery, looking like a frightened animal. He kept sobbing. At each new memory of the offense inflicted on him, sobs rose to his throat, he shuddered, and an evil feeling rushed to his heart and covered his whole being. At that moment he hated his mother, but even more than Ivan, who appeared cheerful and smiling with rods and squeezed his beating body so tightly during the punishment. If the nasty man hadn't held him so tightly, he would have run away.

And thoughts wandered in the boy’s head about how he would take revenge on the cook ... He would certainly take revenge ... And he would tell dad, as soon as he returned, how unfairly his mother had done with Chizhik ... Let dad know ...

From time to time Shurka would come out of his corner and look out the window: isn't Chizhik coming?.. “Poor Chizhik! It’s true, and they beat him painfully ... But he doesn’t know that I was whipped for him. I’ll tell him everything… I’ll tell him everything!”

These thoughts about Chizhik calmed him somewhat, and he looked forward to the return of his friend.

Marya Ivanovna, herself agitated, paced her large bedroom, full of hatred for the batman, because of whom her Shurka had dared to speak to her mother like that. Positively, this sailor has a bad influence on the boy, and he should be removed ... As soon as Vasily Mikhailovich returns from the voyage, and she will ask him to take another batman. In the meantime - nothing to do - will have to endure this rude. He probably wouldn't dare to get drunk now and be rude to her after he was punished in the carriage... It was necessary to teach him a lesson!

Marya Ivanovna quietly looked into the nursery several times and returned again, in vain expecting that Shurka would come to ask for forgiveness.

Irritated, she continually scolded Anyutka and began interrogating her about her relationship with Chizhik.

Speak, little bastard, the whole truth... Speak...

Anyutka swore her innocence.

The cook, so that, mistress, did not give me a passage! Anyutka said. - All climbed with various meanness, but Fedos never thought, mistress ...

Why didn't you tell me about the cook before? Luzgina asked suspiciously.

I didn’t dare, mistress ... I thought it would fall behind ...

Well, I'll sort you all out ... You look at me! .. Go and find out what Alexander Vasilyevich is doing!

Anyutka went into the nursery and saw Shurka nodding out the window to the returning Chizhik.

Barchuk! Mommy was ordered to find out what you are doing ... What do you want to say?

Tell me, Anyutka, that I went for a walk in the garden...

And with these words Shurka ran out of the room to meet Chizhik.

At the gate, Shurka rushed to Fedos.

Looking sympathetically into his face, he firmly grasped the sailor's rough, calloused hand and, swallowing down his tears, repeated, caressing him:

Chizhik ... Dear, good Chizhik!

The gloomy and embarrassed face of Fedos lit up with an expression of extraordinary tenderness.

Look, you are hearty! he whispered excitedly.

And, glancing at the windows of the house to see if the “white-haired one” was sticking out, Fedos quickly lifted Shurka, pressed him to his chest and, carefully, so as not to prick him with his bristly mustache, kissed the boy. Then, just as quickly, he lowered him to the ground and said:

Now go home as soon as possible, Leksandra Vassilyitch. Go, my dear...

For what? We'll go together.

Something is not necessary together. Unequally, mother will see from the window that you have blown your nanny, and again she will get angry.

And let him look ... Let him be angry!

Is there any way you can rebel against your mother? - Chizhik said. - It's not good, my dear, Leksandra Vasilyich, to rebel against your own mother. It should be read ... Go, go ... we'll talk a lot already ...

Shurka, who had always willingly listened to Chizhik, since he fully recognized his moral authority, was now ready to carry out his advice. But he wanted to quickly console his friend in the misfortune that befell him, and therefore, before leaving, he said, not without a certain feeling of pride:

And you know, Chizhik, they whipped me too!

That's what I know. I heard how you screamed, poor thing ... Because of me you suffered, my dear! .. God will count it for you, I suppose! Well, go, go, dear, otherwise it will hit us again ...

Shurka ran away, still more attached to Chizhik. The unjust punishment they both suffered made their love stronger.

After waiting a minute or two at the gate, Fedos, with a firm and resolute gait, walked across the courtyard to the kitchen, trying, under the guise of contemptuous severity, to hide the involuntary shame of the flogged man from strangers.

Ivan looked at Chizhik with smiling eyes, but Chizhik did not even deign to pay attention to the cook, as if he were not in the kitchen, and went to his corner in the next room.

The lady ordered that you immediately come to her as soon as you return from the carriage! Ivan called to him from the kitchen.

Chizhik did not answer.

Slowly he took off his overcoat, changed into canvas shoes, took out of the chest an apple and a candy given to him in the morning by Shurka, put them in his pocket and, taking out a letter from the crew adjutant from behind the cuff of his overcoat, went into the rooms.

There was no lady in the dining room. There was one Anyutka. She paced up and down the room, pumping the baby, and singing a song in her pleasant voice.

Noticing Fedos, Anyutka raised her frightened eyes to him. They now shone with an expression of sorrow and participation.

Would you like a mistress, Fedos Nikitich? she whispered, going up to Chizhik.

Report that I have returned from the carriage, - the sailor said in embarrassment, lowering his eyes.

Anyutka was about to go to the bedroom, but at the same moment Luzgina entered the dining-room.

Fedos silently handed her the letter and went to the door.

Luzgina read the letter. Apparently satisfied that her request had been fulfilled and that the insolent orderly had been severely punished, she said:

I hope the punishment will be a good lesson for you and you will not dare to be more rude ...

Chizhik was gloomily silent.

Meanwhile, Luzgina continued in a softer tone:

Look, Theodosius, behave like a decent batman ... Do not drink vodka, always be respectful to your mistress ... Then I will not have to punish you ...

Chizhik didn't say a word.

So why are you silent? .. You must answer when they talk to you.

I'm listening! Chizhik answered automatically.

Well, go to the young master ... You can go to the garden ...

Chizhik left, and the young woman returned to the bedroom, indignant at the insensitivity of this rude sailor. Vasily Mikhailovich decisively does not understand people. He praised this orderly as some kind of treasure, but he drinks, and is rude, and does not feel any remorse.

Oh, what a rude people these sailors are! the young woman said aloud.

After breakfast, she went to visit. Before leaving, she ordered Anyutka to call the young master.

Anyutka ran into the garden.

In the depths of a dense, neglected garden, under the shade of a sprawling linden tree, Chizhik and Shurka were sitting side by side on the grass. Chizhik was making a kite and quietly talking about something. Shura listened attentively.

Come to mama, barchuk! said Anyutka, running up to them, all flushed.

For what? - Shurka asked displeasedly, who felt so good with Chizhik, who told him unusually interesting things.

I don't know. Mommy got out of the yard. They must want to say goodbye to you...

Shura got up reluctantly.

What, is mom angry? he asked Anyutka.

No, barchuk... Move away...

And you hurry up if your mother demands... Don't rebel, Leksandra Vasilyich, with your mother. You never know what a mother and son will do, but everything needs to be respected by the parent, - Chizhik affectionately admonished Shurka, leaving work and lighting his pipe.

Shurka entered the bedroom timidly, looking offended, and embarrassedly stopped a few paces from his mother.

In an elegant silk dress and a white hat, beautiful, blooming and fragrant, Marya Ivanovna approached Shurka and, gently patting him on the cheek, said with a smile:

Well, Shurka, stop pouting... Let's make peace... Ask your mother for forgiveness for calling her nasty and evil... Kiss her hand...

Shurka kissed that white plump ringed hand, and tears came to his throat.

Indeed, he is to blame: he called his mother evil and nasty. And Chizhik rightly says that it is a sin to be a bad son.

And Shurka, exaggerating his guilt under the influence of the feeling that gripped him, said excitedly and impetuously:

Sorry mom!

This sincere tone, these tears that trembled in the boy's eyes, touched the mother's heart. She, in turn, felt guilty for having so severely punished her firstborn. His suffering face, full of horror, appeared before her, his plaintive cries were heard in her ears, and the female's pity for the cub seized the woman. She wanted to warmly caress the boy.

But she was in a hurry to go on her visits, and she felt sorry for the new ceremonial dress, and therefore she limited herself to bending down, kissing Shurka on the forehead and saying:

Let's forget what happened. You won't scold your mother again, will you?

I won't.

Do you still love your mother?

And I love you, my boy. Well, goodbye. Step into the garden...

And with these words, Luzgina once again patted Shurka on the cheek, smiled at him, and, rustling her silk dress, left the bedroom.

Shurka returned to the garden not entirely satisfied. To the impressionable boy, the words and caresses of his mother seemed insufficient and inconsistent with his remorseful heart. But he was even more embarrassed by the fact that on his part the reconciliation was not complete. Although he said that he still loved his mother, he felt at that moment that in his soul there was still something hostile to his mother, and not so much for himself as for Chizhik.

Well, how are you, little dove? Reconciled with your mother? Fedos asked Shurka, who approached with quiet steps.

He reconciled... And I, Chizhik, asked for forgiveness for scolding my mother...

But was it like that?

It was ... I called my mother evil and nasty.

Look how desperate you are! Yes, how he opened his mother! ..

It's me for you, Chizhik, - Shurka hastened to justify himself.

I understand that for me ... And the main reason is that your heart could not stand the untruth ... that's why you rebelled, tiddly ... That's why you felt sorry for Anton ... God will forgive you for this, fuck you and your mother rude ... But all- ??? this you correctly, that obeyed. After all, but the mother ... And when a person feels that he is to blame, - obey. Whatever happens, it will be easier for you yourself... Is that what I say, Leksandra Vasilyich? Is it easier?..

Easier, - said the boy thoughtfully.

Fedos looked intently at Shurka and asked:

So why are you exactly quiet, I'll see, huh? What is the reason, Leksandra Vasilyich? Tell me and we'll discuss it together. After reconciliation, a person’s soul is light, because all the heavy evil will jump out of the soul, and you, look, how foggy ... Or did your mother tease you? ..

No, not that, Chizhik ... Mom didn’t itch me ...

So what's the trouble?.. Sit down on the grass and say... And I'll finish the snake... And Vazhnetsky, I'll tell you, we'll get a kite... Tomorrow morning, as the breeze blows, we'll let him down...

Shurka sank down on the grass and was silent for some time.

You say that evil will jump out, but it didn’t jump out with me! Shura suddenly spoke up.

How so?

But it’s so that I’m still angry with my mother and don’t love her as much as before ... This is not good, Chizhik? And I would like not to be angry, but I can’t ...

What are you angry about, if you are reconciled?

For you, Chizhik ...

For me? exclaimed Fedos.

Why did your mother send you in the carriage in vain? Why does she call you bad when you're good?

The old sailor was touched by this affection of the boy and this vitality of indignant feeling. Not only did he suffer for his foster, he still cannot calm down.

"Look after all, God's soul!" thought Fedos tenderly, and for the first moment he absolutely did not know what to answer to this and how to calm his pet.

But soon love for the boy prompted him the answer.

With the sensitivity of a devoted heart, he understood better than the most experienced teachers that it was necessary to protect the child from early anger against his mother and at all costs protect in his eyes that very “mean blond woman” who poisoned his life.

And he spoke:

But still don't get angry! Spread your mind, and your heart will go away ... You never know what a person has a concept ... One, say, by arshin, the other by two ... You and I believe that they punished me in vain, but your mother, maybe, believes that it’s not in vain. We now think that I was not drunk and not rude, but my mother, my brother, maybe she thinks that I was drunk and rude, and that for this I should have been torn off in all form ...

Before Shurka opened, so to speak, a new horizon. But before delving into the meaning of Chizhik's words, he asked, not without sympathetic curiosity, in the most serious tone:

Did they flog you very painfully, Chizhik? Like Sidorov's goat? he remembered Chizhik's expression. - And you screamed?

It doesn’t even hurt at all, and not just like Sidorov’s goat! Chizhik chuckled.

Well?! And you said that the sailors were whipped painfully.

And it hurts a lot ... Only I, one might say, was not flogged evenly. So, just for shame, they punished me and to please my mother, but I didn’t even hear how they flogged ... Thank you, good midshipman in the adjutants ... He regretted it ... I didn’t order the whipping according to the form ... Only you, look, don’t let your mother know about this ... Let thinks I got ripped off properly...

Ah yes, well done midshipman! .. He cleverly came up with this. And me, Chizhik, they flogged me so painfully ...

Chizhik stroked Shurka's head and remarked:

That's what I heard and felt sorry for you ... Well, what can I say about it ... What happened, then passed.

There was silence.

Fedos was about to suggest playing fools, but Shurka, apparently preoccupied with something, asked:

So you, Chizhik, think that your mother does not understand that she is to blame for you?

Perhaps so. Or maybe he understands, but does not want to show his mind in front of an ordinary person. There are also people who are proud. They feel their guilt, but do not say ...

Okay ... So, mom doesn’t understand that you’re good, and that’s why she doesn’t love you?

It’s her business to judge a person, and for that it’s impossible to have a heart against her mother ... In addition, by a woman’s title, she has a completely different mind than a man ... A person does not immediately turn out to her ... God willing, after she recognizes what I am there is, therefore, a person, and he will understand me better. She will see that I follow her son properly, take care of him, tell him fairy tales, do not teach him anything bad, and that we live with you, Leksandra Vasilyich, in accordance - a mother’s heart, you see, it will show its own. Loving your own child, and the wartime nanny will not be oppressed by the darma. Everything, my brother, time comes, until the Lord is wiser ... That's right, Leksandra Vasilyich ... And you do not hide evil against your mother, my hearty friend! Fedos concluded.

Thanks to these words, the mother was to some extent justified in Shurka's eyes, and he, enlightened and delighted, as if in gratitude for this justification, which resolved his doubts, impulsively kissed Chizhik and exclaimed confidently:

Mom will certainly love you, Chizhik! She will know who you are! Find out!

Fedos, far from sharing this joyful confidence, looked affectionately at the cheerful boy.

And Shurka continued animatedly:

And then we, Chizhik, will live well ... Mom will never send you to the carriage ... And she will drive this nasty Ivan away ... He’s the one who slanders mom about you ... I can’t stand him ... And he pressed me hard when mom whipped ... How dad will return , I'll tell him everything about this Ivan ... Isn't it true, you need to tell, Chizhik?

Don't talk better... Don't start a slander, Leksandra Vasilyich. Do not get confused in these matters ... Well, them! - Fedos said with disgust and waved his hand with an air of utter disdain. “It’s true, brother, she’ll say it herself, but complaining to the barchuk about the servants is not good without extremes ... Another unintelligent and mischievous child will complain to his parents in vain, but the parents will not sort it out and polish the servants. No, it's not sweet. This same Ivan is the same ... Even though he is a rather vile person, that he is lying to the gentlemen about his own brother, but if you really judge, then he lost his conscience through no fault of his own. He, for example, if he came to slander, so you, the scoundrel, in the teeth, yes, once, twice, yes, in the blood, ”Fedos said, lighting up with indignation. - Probably, he won’t come again ... And again: Ivan kept hanging around in batmen, well, he became completely shameless ... Their lackey business is known: there is no real, it means, hard work, but frankly, there’s only falsehood ... Please, please, give it, to be flattered to that, - a man is false and grows a belly, but in order to devour the master's leftovers more boringly ... If he were a uniformed sailor, maybe Ivan didn’t have this meanness in himself ... Sailors would have brought him to the line ... So they would have broken him off, which is mine respect!.. That's what it is!.. And Ivan would have become a different Ivan... However, I'm lying, old, I'm only boring you, Leksandra Vasilyich... Let's be fools, otherwise it'll be more fun...

He took out cards from his pocket, took out an apple and a piece of candy, and, handing it to Shurka, said:

Go ahead, eat...

It's yours, Chizhik ...

Eat, they say... I don't even understand the bite, but you're flattered... Eat!

Well, thanks, Chizhik ... Only you take half.

Perhaps a piece ... Well, hand it over, Leksandra Vasilyich ... Yes, look, don’t beat the nanny again ... The third day everyone left me in the cold! You are good at cards! Fedos said.

Both settled comfortably on the grass, in the shade, and began to play cards.

Soon, Shurka's merry, triumphant laughter and the deliberately grouchy voice of the deliberately losing old man were heard in the garden:

Look, you left me in the cold again... Well, you are good, Leksandra Vasilyich!

End of August in the yard. Cold, rainy and inhospitable. The sun can not be seen because of the lead clouds that enveloped the sky on all sides. The wind still walks along the dirty Kronstadt streets and lanes, singing a dreary autumn song, and sometimes you can hear the sea roaring.

A large squadron of ancient sailing ships and frigates had already returned from a long cruising in the Baltic Sea under the command of a well-known admiral at that time, who, a drinker, used to say at his dinner: “Who wants to be drunk - sit down beside me, and who wants to be full - sit down next to your brother. My brother was also an admiral and was famous for his gluttony.

The ships were pulled into the harbor and disarmed, preparing for the winter. The Kronstadt roadsteads were deserted, but the streets, quiet in the summer, revived.

"Coccyx" has not yet returned from swimming. He was expected from day to day.

There is silence in the Luzgins' apartment, that overwhelming silence that happens in houses where there are seriously ill patients. Everyone walks on tiptoe and speaks in an unnaturally low voice.

Shurka is ill and seriously ill. He has inflammation of both lungs, which aggravated his measles. For two weeks now he has been lying flat on his bed, emaciated, with a haggard little face and feverishly shining eyes, large and mournful, obediently subdued, like a shot bird. The doctor goes twice a day, and his good-natured face at each visit becomes more and more serious, and his lips are somehow comically drawn out, as if he were using them to express the danger of the situation.

All this time, Chizhik was constantly with Shurka. The patient insistently demanded that Chizhik be with him, and was glad when Chizhik gave him medicine, and smiled at times, listening to his cheerful tales. At night, Chizhik was on duty, as if on watch, on an armchair near Shurka's bed and did not sleep, guarding the slightest movement of the anxiously sleeping boy. And during the day, Chizhik managed to run to the pharmacy, and on various matters, and found time to make some kind of home-made toy that would make his pet smile. And he did all this somehow imperceptibly and calmly, without fuss and unusually quickly, and at the same time his face shone with an expression of something calm, confident and friendly, which had a calming effect on the patient.

And in these days, what Shurka spoke about in the garden came true. Mad with grief and despair, the mother, who herself had lost weight from excitement and had not slept at night, only now began to recognize this "insensitive, rude dork", involuntarily marveling at the tenderness of his nature, which was revealed in his tireless care for the sick and involuntarily forced the mother to be grateful for her son. .

That evening the wind howled especially loudly in the chimneys. It was very fresh in the sea, and Marya Ivanovna, crushed by grief, sat in her bedroom ... Every gust of wind made her shudder and remember either her husband, who was walking in this terrible weather from Reval to Kronstadt, or Shurka.

The doctor recently left, more serious than ever...

We must wait for a crisis ... God willing, the boy will endure ... Let's have musk and champagne ... Your orderly is an excellent nurse ... Let him stay the night near the patient and give him as ordered, and you should rest ... Tomorrow morning I will ...

These words of the doctor involuntarily rise in her memory, and tears flow from her eyes ... She whispers prayers, crosses herself ... Hope is replaced by despair, despair - by hope.

In tears, she went into the nursery and approached the crib.

Fedos immediately got up.

Sit, sit, please,” Luzgina whispered and looked at Shurka.

He was in oblivion and breathed intermittently ... She put her hand to his head - it was so hot from her.

Oh my God! moaned the young woman, and tears welled up again from her eyes...

Silence reigned in the dimly lit room. Only Shurka's breathing was heard, and at times the mournful groan of the wind reached through the closed shutters.

You should go to rest, mistress, - Fedos said almost in a whisper: - if you please, don’t hesitate ... I’ll do everything around Leksander Vasilyich ...

You haven't slept for several nights yourself.

We sailors are used to it... And I don't even want to sleep at all... Let's go, mistress! he repeated softly.

And looking with pity at his mother's despair, he added:

And, I dare to report to you, mistress, do not despair. Barchuk is on the mend.

You think?

Will get better soon! Why would a boy like that die? He needs to live.

He spoke these words with such confidence that hope revived the young woman again.

She sat for a few more minutes and got up.

What a terrible wind! she said as the howl came from the street again. - Somehow "Coccyx" is now at sea? Can't anything happen to him? How do you think?

- "Coccyx" and not such an assault withstood, mistress. Probably, he took all the reefs and know that he is swaying like a barrel ... Be hopeful, lady ... Thank God, Vasily Mikhailovich is a uniformed commander ...

Well, I'm going to take a nap ... Just a little - wake me up.

I'm listening, sir. Good night, lady!

Thank you for everything... for everything! Luzgina whispered with feeling, and, greatly reassured, she left the room.

And Chizhik was awake all night, and when the next morning Shurka, waking up, smiled at Chizhik and said that he was much better and that he wanted tea, Chizhik crossed himself widely, kissed Shurka and turned away to hide the rising tears of joy.

Vasily Mikhailovich returned the next day.

Learning from his wife and the doctor that it was Chizhik who went out to Shurka, Luzgin, happy that his adored son was out of danger, warmly thanked the sailor and offered him a hundred roubles.

They will come in handy when you retire,” he added.

I dare to report, your arrogance, that I can’t take the money, ”Chizhik said somewhat offended.

Why is this?

And because, your vanity, that I didn’t go after your son because of money, but loving ...

I know, but still Chizhik ... Why not take it?

Do not deign to offend me, your silliness ... Keep your money with you.

What are you? .. I didn’t even think to offend you! .. As you wish ... I, too, brother, offered you from the bottom of my heart! - Luzgin said somewhat embarrassed.

And, glancing at Chizhik, he suddenly added:

And what a glorious man you are, I'll tell you, Chizhik!..

Fedos stayed safely with the Luzgins for three years, until Shurka entered the Naval Corps, and enjoyed general respect. With the new batman-cook, who came in instead of Ivan, he was on the most friendly terms.

In general, he lived these three years not badly. The joyful news of the liberation of the peasants swept through all of Russia ... A new spirit blew, and Luzgina herself somehow became kinder and, listening to the enthusiastic speeches of midshipmen, began to treat Anyutka better so as not to be considered a retrograd.

Every Sunday, Fedos would take time off for a walk, and after Mass he would go to visit his friend the boatswain and his wife, philosophize there, and by evening return home, although rather “cracked,” but, as he put it, “in his full sanity.”

And Mrs. Luzgina did not get angry when Fedos happened to say to Shurka in front of her, giving him some present without fail:

Don't think, Leksandra Vasilyich, that I'm drunk... Don't think, my dove... I can handle everything properly...

And, as if to prove that he could, he took Shurka's boots and various clothes and cleaned them diligently.

When Shurka was appointed to the Naval Corps, Fedos was also resigned. He visited the village, soon returned and became a watchman in the St. Petersburg Admiralty. Once a week, he always went to Shurka in the building, and on Sundays he visited Anyutka, who, after her will, got married and lived in nannies.

Having become an officer, Shurka, at the insistence of Chizhik, took him to him. Chizhik went with him to circumnavigation, continued to be his nanny and most devoted friend. Then, when Alexander Vasilievich got married, Chizhik nursed his children and, at the age of seventy, died in his house.

The memory of Chizhik is sacredly kept in the family of Alexander Vasilyevich. And he himself, remembering him with deep love, often says that Chizhik was his best teacher.

Born in Sevastopol on Ekaterininskaya Street in the house of Admiral Stanyukovich. The house itself has not been preserved, but the retaining wall surrounding the house and garden has been preserved. There is a memorial plate in honor of the writer. Father - Mikhail Nikolaevich Stanyukovich, commandant of the Sevastopol port and military governor of the city. The family of the future seascape writer, "Aivazovsky Word", belonged to the old noble family of Stanyukovichi - one of the branches of the Lithuanian family of Stankovichi; Demyan Stepanovich Stanyukovich accepted Russian citizenship in 1656 during the capture of Smolensk. Mikhail Nikolaevich Stanyukovich (1786-1869) was the great-great-grandson of Demyan Stepanovich. The mother of Konstantin Mikhailovich is Lyubov Fedorovna Mitkova (1803-1855), daughter of Lieutenant Commander Mitkov. There were eight children in total in the family. 1851-1853 - under the leadership of Ippolit Matveyevich Debu, a Petrashevist, who is serving his sentence as a soldier in Sevastopol, young Stanyukovich receives his initial education. 1854 - Konstantin Mikhailovich was 11 years old by the beginning of the defense of Sevastopol. In the autumn of 1854, from his garden through a telescope, he observed the movement of enemy troops towards Sevastopol; Acting as a courier for his father, he saw Kornilov and Nakhimov. At the end of September, the Stanyukovich family was evacuated to Simferopol. 1856 - enlisted as a candidate for the Corps of Pages in St. Petersburg. On August 26, he was awarded a bronze medal on the St. Andrew's ribbon "In memory of the Eastern War of 1853-1856." 1857 - On October 5 he was awarded a silver medal on the St. George ribbon "For the defense of Sevastopol". On November 5, Stanyukovich was transferred from Pagesky to the Naval Cadet Corps.

creative period.

1859 - in the journal "Northern Flower" the first publication: his poem "Retired Soldier" was published.
1860 - Stanyukovich's poems continue to be published in the "Northern Flower".

1862 - Various works of the writer are published in the Marine Collection.
1863 - Head of the Pacific squadron Andrei Popov sends a midshipman to the city of Saigon to the captain of the Gaydamak clipper ship. For more than a month, Stanyukovich watched the conquest of Indochina by the French. Later, his impressions were described in the story "Around the World on the Kite".
1864 - In September, the Epoch magazine, No. 9, published a "Chapter from Essays on Marine Life."
1867 - On January 20, in the 3rd issue of the "Alarm Clock" the essay "In the countryside" was published. On February 4, Petersburg Leaflet reports the publication of Stanyukovich's early sea stories in the book "From the circumnavigation of the world" in the publication of Wilhelm Genkel. On May 26, in Alarm Clock No. 19, the essay “From the Memoirs of a Village Teacher” (signed as “K.-vich.”) begins to be printed. On June 2, Konstantin Mikhailovich marries Lyubov Nikolaevna Artseulova (1845-1907). On August 11, in No. 30 of the Alarm Clock, the essay “July Dream” is published.
1869 - due to serious financial difficulties, the writer is looking for a job and in May he enters the service in the management of the Kursk-Kharkov-Azov railway. Lives at this time in Kursk, then in Kharkov. 27, the father of Konstantin Mikhailovich dies.
1870 - In June he moved to Taganrog as an assistant auditor of the traffic service. Closely confronted with the world of railway dealers, he writes the comedy "That's why the pike in the sea, so that the crucian does not doze off." November 29 in Iskra publishes a feuilleton "Russian Americans".
1871 - On February 15, the second daughter, Lyubov, is born (died in 1884). On October 27, by order of the Minister of the Interior, his comedy “That's why the pike in the sea so that the crucian does not doze off” is prohibited from being staged in the theater.
1872 - August, the comedy "That's why the pike in the sea, so that the crucian does not doze off" was published in No. 8 of the Delo magazine. On December 23, the third daughter, Zinaida, was born (she died in 1934).
1873 - The novel "Without Exodus" is published in the "Case". The newspaper "Birzhevye Vedomosti" publishes a long article by M. V. Avdeev about the novel "Without Exodus".
1874 - the novel "Without Exodus" is published as a separate edition in St. Petersburg.
1875 - August 28, the fourth daughter was born - Maria (died in 1942).
1877 - Konstantin Mikhailovich entirely in literary work. Published in a number of publications: Novosti, Order, Russkaya Pravda, Moscow Review and others. Since April, every issue of Dela has had his publications: The Jack of Hearts, a series of feuilletons under the general title Pictures of Public Life, the story The Original Couple, and the play Relatives.
1878 - works a lot, publishes a lot, including in the section "Pictures of social life" "Letters of noble foreigners" (in the form of correspondence of an Englishman who got to Russia with his wife) were printed.
1879 - in the summer in the "Case" his story "The Adventures of a well-meaning young man, told by himself" begins to appear. The novel "In Troubled Waters" is being published in St. Petersburg.
1880 - working on the novel "Two Brothers". The "Delo" begins to publish "Two Brothers". On February 24, the writer breaks with Molva, the former Birzhevye Vedomosti. In May, the publication of the novel Our Morals was announced.
1881 - Stanyukovich's "journal notes" are published in Delo. On June 19, in Moscow, at the theater of Petrovsky Park, the first performance of his comedy "That's why the pike in the sea, so that the crucian does not doze off" took place. In August, the story "Because of Trifles" was published in "Delo", and in the autumn the novel "Whirlpool" began to be published there.
1882 - in May, for Stanyukovich's feuilleton "In a Madhouse", the Main Directorate for Press Affairs indicated to the St. Petersburg Censorship Committee "... that censorship should apply to articles intended for publication in the journal Delo with special attention and rigor." On September 5, son Konstantin was born.
1883 - On January 5, the Main Directorate for Press Affairs announced that "Retired Navy Lieutenant Konstantin Mikhailovich Stanyukovich was allowed to temporarily edit the Delo magazine, subscribing for the editor."
1885 - January 12, Konstantin Mikhailovich hands over the Delo magazine to I. S. Durnovo.
On June 17, he arrives in Tomsk, settles in Zateevsky lane. In Tomsk, he quickly converges with the political exiles F. Volkhovsky, S. Chudnovsky, who live here, and active participants in the Siberian Newspaper. Here he was visited by an American writer, author of the book "Siberia and exile" John Kennan.
1886 - In January, a series of his essays "To Distant Lands" begins in Russian Thought. July 13 in the "Sibirskaya Gazeta" opens a series of feuilletons under the general heading "Siberian Pictures". On September 7, in the 36th issue of the Siberian Newspaper, under the pseudonym N. Tomsky, the novel “Not so distant places” begins to be published. October - the story "The Fugitive" signed by M. Kostin is published in the Severny Vestnik magazine. In the 10th issue of the monthly "Bulletin of Europe" the story "Vasily Ivanovich" was published with the signature "I.St."
1887 - The novel "Not so remote places" continues to be published in the "Siberian", in the second issue of the "Case" the story "Sailor's Lynch" is printed. In Severny Vestnik, No. 7, the story "A Man Overboard!" was published.
1888 - in St. Petersburg they published a separate book "Sea stories", and in the publishing house of N. A. Tolkachev - the novel "Not so distant places". January - the story "On the Stones" is published in the first issue of "Russian Thought". In April, Sibirskaya Gazeta published a biographical essay by Stanyukovich about G. N. Potanin, a famous traveler and explorer, a native of Siberia.
On June 27, he leaves exile with his family. The wife of Konstantin Mikhailovich received a small inheritance, and they leave for Paris, further to the south of France, to the village of fishermen Guetary, 20 kilometers from Spain. At the same time, the writer receives a letter from Vienna, from Galant, head of the Russian department of the Austrian newspaper Neue freie Presse, in which he offers cooperation to Stanyukovich, in particular, asks for permission to publish the novel Two Brothers in the newspaper.
1889 - February 25 in the newspaper "Die Gegenwart" (Berlin) begins to publish the story "Man overboard!". At the end of February, the writer arrives in St. Petersburg.
In April, in the 4th issue of Vestnik Evropy, an article by K. Arseniev "A fashionable form of fiction" was published, in which Stanyukovich's sea stories are positively assessed and his other works are criticized.
In the August "Bulletin of Europe" published the story "Gloomy Navigator". Konstantin Mikhailovich is working on the story "First Steps". At the end of the year he leaves for Paris.
1890 - at the end of January, Konstantin Mikhailovich returns to St. Petersburg.
April - On the 1st, the story "Into the Storm" is published in Russkiye Vedomosti.
On April 27, in the 113th issue of Russkiye Vedomosti, the story “Between Friends” is published (this is how the writer renamed his story “Burial at Sea”).
June 17 - the story "Serge Ptichkin" is published in Russkiye Vedomosti, No. 164.
October - the story "Tanya" is published in Russkiye Vedomosti.
1891 - from January to April in the "Bulletin of Europe" printed "First Steps" ("... warped").
From the 74th issue of Russkiye Vedomosti, Stanyukovich's story "The Terrible Admiral" begins to be published.
September - the publishing house of N. A. Lebedev published a collection under the general title "Sailors".
October - many newspapers celebrated the 30th anniversary of the literary activity of K. M. Stanyukovich.
November - Russkiye Vedomosti begins to print the story "Household".
In Moscow, in the publishing house of Sytin, in the series "People's Books", Stanyukovich's book "Between Friends, or Death on a Ship" is published.
1892 - in January, Stanyukovich and Krivenko are appointed editors of Russian Wealth. It contains the story of Stanyukovich "Reckless".
On July 8, the story “The Passenger” begins to be published in Russkiye Vedomosti.
This year, his collection of short stories "Modern Pictures" is also published, and in the collection "Help for the Starving", published by the newspaper "Russian Vedomosti", "Far from the Shores" - Stanyukovich's story is placed.
1893 - in January and February in the "Russian School", in numbers 1-4, the story of Konstantin Mikhailovich "Little Sailors" is published with the subtitle: "From the Memoirs of the Naval Corps."
March - from March 14, Russkiye Vedomosti begins to publish the story "Pinegin's Marriage".
May - in the monthly "Russian Thought" under the heading "Stories of the old boatswain" the story "Revenge" is published. On May 20, Russkiye Vedomosti published a large article “From the History of the Marine Corps”, where the story “Little Sailors” is positively characterized.
June - V. I. Shtein's publishing house publishes the second edition of the novel "Without Exodus". On June 6, his story "In the Sea" begins to be published.
August - in the publishing house of M. M. Lederle, the 2nd edition was printed "Sea stories".
December - the newspaper "Russian Life" on the 1st publishes the story "A Terrible Day".
In the same year, the Sytin Publishing House (Moscow) published the story "First Steps" as a separate book, and in St. Petersburg - a reprint of the collection "Sailors" with additions.
1894 - in the January issue of the magazine "The World of God" the story of Konstantin Mikhailovich "Stubby" was published. The newspaper Russkaya Zhizn continues to publish the novel The Franks, which began in No. 332 of last year, the end of which will be published on August 11, No. 212. On January 26, Russkiye Vedomosti publishes a story from the series Victims of the Sea: "The collapse of the squadron and the death of the tender."
March - in the 3rd issue of "Russian wealth" the story "Isaika" is published.
In April, in the monthly literary supplement No. 4 to the illustrated weekly "Niva", the story "In the Tropics" begins to be published.
June - in "Russian Life" Stanyukovich prints a feuilleton "From the reader's diary". In "Russian Vedomosti" from No. 165 to No. 322, "The Restless Admiral" is expounded.
December - the stories "At Night" and "Christmas Tree for Adults" are published in Russkiye Vedomosti.
In the same year, Stanyukovich's collection "Victims" was published by the publishing house of M. M. Lederle (Petersburg).
1895 - from January to November in the journal "The World of God" the novel "The Story of One Life" was published.
March - The story "Nanny" begins to be published in the 77th issue of Russkiye Vedomosti.
June - the story "Matroska" began to be published in Russkiye Vedomosti on June 6. In the publishing house of M. M. Lederle, the story “Under the Tropics” was published as a separate edition (with the subtitle “From the Memoirs of a Former Sailor”).
In August, the publishing house of O. N. Popova (Petersburg) published the novel "Frank" as a separate edition. On August 13, the story "Kirilych and the prisoner-general" began to be printed.
In the same year, the collection "New Sea Stories and Little Sailors" was published by the publishing house of M. M. Lederle.
1896 - the whole year in the magazine "Rodnik" continues to publish the story "Around the world on the "Kite"".
January - the story "Escape" is published in the first issue of "Russian Thought", the story "Fire on the Ship" is published in the magazine "Vskhody", and in issues 1.2 of the magazine "Children's Reading" - "Maximka" (a film was made based on this story Maksimka).
On April 5, Russkiye Vedomosti publishes the story "A Stupid Reason".
May - the story "The Black Sea Siren" begins to be printed, the end - in the July issue (in the journal "Russian Thought").
September October. Continues to write "Kite".
1897 - On January 4, Stanyukovich read the story "Revenge" and other works at the Korsh Theater at an evening hosted by the Literary Fund in favor of needy writers and scientists.
April - the writer spends in the hassle of releasing his "Collected Works of K. M. Stanyukovich" by the publishing house of A. A. Kartsev (Moscow) 1897, which is opposed by the Press Department.
May - hard work on the novel "Priests", which is published in "Russian wealth".
July - Stanyukovich moves to St. Petersburg.
November - The Main Directorate for Press Affairs informs the censorship committee that the order to ban the circulation of the Collected Works of K. M. Stanyukovich in public libraries "should be extended not only to 9 volumes bearing the date '1897', but also to subsequent volumes of writings by the same author marked 1898. November 10, 1897., No. 8203 A. Katenin.
1898 - the story "Matrosik" is published in the March issue of the magazine "Vskhody".
April - The writer and his family leave for Switzerland.
May - Stanyukovich is being treated in Carlsbad.
At the end of July, Konstantin Mikhailovich returned to St. Petersburg and settled in the Palais Royal Hotel.
October. The story "Letter" is published in the monthly "God's World".
December. Stanyukovich writes Christmas stories for Son of the Fatherland and Russkiye Vedomosti; on December 25, his story Retribution is published in the latter.
This year the last, 10, 11 and 12 volumes of the collected works of the writer are published. Censorship banned the publication of a whole series of stories undertaken by the St. Petersburg Literacy Committee (mostly censors do not like scenes of cruelty and descriptions of the use of punishments in the army and navy, that is, according to censorship, the writer gives "false ideas about the system of punishments").
May - the story "The Death of the Hawk" is published in the magazine "Vskhody".
August - "Russian Wealth" publishes the story "Turnover".
October - Stanyukovich arrives in Sevastopol on the 19th.
During the year, "The World of God" publishes the novel "Indifferent", and the magazine "Spring" - the story "The Adventures of a Sailor".
1900 - the writer spends the first half of the year in the Crimea, the disease does not let go, at the end of March he makes a trip to Batum on a steamer.
April - in the newspaper "Russian Vedomosti" on April 14 and 17, the essay "Dead Season (Crimean Sketches)" was published, in the issue of the 30th, his story "Heavy Sleep" begins to appear. In May, the story "Desperate" appears there.
June - Konstantin Mikhailovich leaves Yalta, hoping to reach St. Petersburg by June 12, but due to health reasons he is forced to stay in Moscow. In No. 168, 180 of Russkiye Vedomosti, the story "Review" is published.
July - in connection with the well-known case of Savva Mamontov, Stanyukovich's feuilletons "Sunday Tales" are published in the "Northern Courier". The story "Sea Wolf" appears in Russkiye Vedomosti.
On August 20, the story "The Brilliant Captain" is published in Russkiye Vedomosti.
October - "Ice Storm" (story) is published in the weekly "God's World".
November, December - On December 15, the story "On the other tack" is published in the "Young Reader".
During the year, the Moscow publishing house of A. A. Kartsev published the second edition of the collection “Among the Sailors”.
1901 - in January, the stories "Comrades" and "Baklagin" are published in Russkiye Vedomosti.
February - March - in the magazine "Rodnik" for these months the story "Singer" is published. On February 2, Russkiye Vedomosti under the heading Modern Pictures publishes the writer's story Where to go?
April - the story "Morning" was published in the April issue of Russian Wealth.
May - the monthly "Russian Thought" publishes the story "Good", and in the "World of God" - A. Bogdanovich's positive review of Stanyukovich's story "Desperate".
October - in the 10th issue of "The World of God" publishes the story "Waited", in "Russian Vedomosti" (No. 284, 287) - the story "Pari". October 21 in the newspaper "News of the Day" message: K. M. Stanyukovich receives half the Pushkin Prize for his literary works.
November - the article “Critical Essays” by V. Burenin was published (in the newspaper “New Time”, in which Stanyukovich and Korolenko are criticized. The collection of stories “On the Seagull and Other Sea Stories” is announced in Russkiye Vedomosti, No. 320.
December - in the newspaper Rossiya on December 7, an article by P. Bykov is published, dedicated to the 40th anniversary of Stanyukovich's literary activity. On December 25, the story "The Mysterious Passenger" ("Russian Vedomosti") was published.
This year, an additional, 13th volume of "Collected Works" was published (published by A. A. Kartsev). A collection of short stories "From the Life of Sailors" was also published by the publishing house of M. M. Stasyulevich (Petersburg).
1902 - On January 3, Stanyukovich's story "The Honeymoon Journey" was published in Russkiye Vedomosti. "Young Reader" in the second issue begins to print the story "Sevastopol Boy".
March - the story "Event" (No. 75, 79) is published in Russkiye Vedomosti.
April - 25 April Russkiye Vedomosti under the heading "Little Stories" publishes Stanyukovich's "Master in Mood".
May - another story by Konstantin Mikhailovich is published in the same column: “The main thing is not to worry”, at the end of the month in No. 143, 147 the story “Munk” is printed.
July - at the end of the month, on the 26th, the beginning of the story "Coast and the Sea" is published in Russkiye Vedomosti, the end is in issue No. 276 of October 6.
August - the magazine "New World" in No. 87 gives an article by N. Noskov "Sea types", which highly positively and highly appreciates the works of Stanyukovich.
November - the writer's health deteriorates sharply, including due to overwork, and at the insistence of doctors he leaves for Italy. After spending several days in Rome, he moves to Naples, where, despite his illness, he continues to work. In his memoirs, N. N. Firsov (L. Ruskin) writes: “The last six months, which he spent entirely in Naples, were cruelly painful. ... he ... was horrified to realize that life was running out, that his working capacity was declining, that, due to his temperament and illness, he could not restrain outbursts of irritability, that he had shaken ties with the closest, dearest people to him from time immemorial. All this, not to mention the constant financial difficulties, caused him severe pain. heartache". In Naples, Konstantin Mikhailovich is supported by his old friends: N. K. Koltsov, professor at Moscow University, E. P. Melnikova (daughter of A. Pechersky), V. D. Vedensky, daughter of Zinaida Konstaninovna. At the end of the month, the illness worsens and the writer is admitted to the hospital.
During this year, Stanyukovich's collection of short stories "Stories from Marine Life" (published by M. V. Klyukin) was reprinted in Moscow, and the collection "Little Stories" was published in St. Petersburg by A. Leifert.
1903 - in early January, Stanyukovich is discharged from the hospital, he is extremely weak, sees poorly, cannot read, and this depresses him more than anything.
February - the eldest daughter of Konstantin Mikhailovich, Natalya, died (February 8). Relatives decided not to tell him this sad news.
March - in the 63rd issue of Russkiye Vedomosti, the story "Tosca" begins to be printed. In the middle of the month, the writer's health improved markedly, he began to think about returning to Russia. Tickets for departure had already been purchased, but at the end of March his health began to deteriorate again: first, Stanyukovich was admitted to a German hospital, from there he was transported to a private clinic.
On the night of May 6-7, at 1:25 a.m., Konstantin Mikhailovich died in the arms of E. P. Melnikova.
On May 9, Konstantin Mikhailovich Stanyukovich was buried in Naples, in a Greek cemetery. All the Russians from the city and its environs came to the funeral that they had time to learn about his death. The largest wreath on the coffin was with the inscription: "To Stanyukovich from the Russians."
On May 18, Russkiye Vedomosti published posthumously the story “Both are good” with a dedication to N. N. Firsov.

The bell has just rung. It was six o'clock on a lovely tropical morning on the Atlantic Ocean.

Across the turquoise sky, infinitely high and transparently tender, sometimes covered with small feathery clouds, like snow-white lace, the golden ball of the sun quickly rises, burning and dazzling, flooding the watery hilly surface of the ocean with joyful brilliance. The blue frames of the distant horizon limit its boundless distance.

Somehow solemnly silently around.

Only the mighty light blue waves, sparkling in the sun with their silvery tops and catching up with one another, smoothly shimmer with that gentle, almost tender murmur, which whispers exactly that in these latitudes, under the tropics, the age-old old ocean is always in a good mood.

Carefully, like a caring gentle nurse, he carries sailing ships on his gigantic chest, without threatening the sailors with storms and hurricanes.

Empty around!

Not a single whitening sail is visible today, not a single haze is visible on the horizon. Big ocean road wide.

From time to time a flying fish will flash in the sun with silvery scales, a playing whale will show its black back and noisily release a fountain of water, a dark frigate or a snow-white albatross will cut high in the air, a small gray loop will sweep over the water, heading for the distant shores of Africa or America, and again empty. Again the roaring ocean, the sun and the sky, bright, gentle, tender.

Swaying slightly on the ocean swell, the Russian military steam clipper "Zabiyaka" is rapidly moving south, moving further and further away from the north, the gloomy, gloomy, and yet close and dear north.

Small, all black, slender and handsome, with its three high masts slightly receding, covered from top to bottom with sails, the "Brawler" with a fair and even, always blowing in the same direction northeast trade wind runs seven miles - eight an hour, with its lee side slightly heeled. Easily and gracefully, the “Zabiyaka” rises from wave to wave, cuts them with a quiet noise with its sharp water cutter, around which water foams and crumbles with diamond dust. Waves gently lick the sides of the clipper. Behind the stern spreads a wide silver ribbon.

On the deck and below, the usual morning cleaning and cleaning of the clipper is going on - preparation for the hoisting of the flag, that is, by eight o'clock in the morning, when the day begins on a military ship.

Scattering around the deck in their white work shirts with wide folding blue collars that reveal sinewy tanned necks, the sailors, barefoot, with trousers rolled up to the knees, wash, scrub and clean the deck, sides, guns and copper - in a word, they clean the “Brawler” with that scrupulous attentiveness, which sailors are distinguished by when cleaning their ship, where everywhere, from the tops of the masts to the hold, there should be breathtaking cleanliness and where everything accessible to brick, cloth and whitewash should shine and sparkle.

The sailors worked diligently and laughed merrily when the vociferous boatswain Matveich, an old servant with a typical old-time boatswain's face, red both from sunburn and from coastal revelry, with bulging gray eyes, "plagued", as the sailors said, during the "cleaning" blurted out what some very intricate abusive improvisation, striking even the accustomed ear of a Russian sailor. Matveich did this not so much for encouragement as, as he put it, "for order."

No one was angry with Matveitch for this. Everyone knows that Matveich is a kind and fair person, he does not start a slander and does not abuse his position. Everyone has long been accustomed to the fact that he could not utter three words without cursing, and sometimes admire his endless variations. In this respect he was a virtuoso.

From time to time the sailors ran to the forecastle, to the tub of water and to the box where the wick was smoldering, in order to hastily smoke a pipe of spicy shag and exchange a word. Then they began again to clean and scrub the copper, polish the guns and wash the sides, and especially diligently when the tall, thin figure of a senior officer approached, who had been running all over the clipper since early morning, looking here and there.

The officer of the watch, a young blond, who was on watch from four to eight o'clock, had long ago dispersed the slumber of the first half hour of the watch. All in white, with an unbuttoned nightgown, he walks back and forth along the bridge, breathing in the fresh air of the morning, not yet heated by the burning sun. A gentle wind pleasantly caresses the back of the young lieutenant's head as he pauses to look at the compass—if the helmsmen are rallying, or at the sails—if they are well set, or at the horizon—if there is a squally cloud somewhere.

But everything is fine, and the lieutenant has almost nothing to do on watch in the fertile tropics.

And he walks back and forth again and dreams too soon of the time when the watch is over and he will drink a glass or two of tea with fresh hot rolls, which the officer cook bakes so skillfully, unless the vodka he requires to raise the dough is poured into yourself.

Suddenly, an unnaturally loud and alarming cry of the sentry, who, sitting on the bow of the ship, looked ahead, swept across the deck:

Man in the sea!

The sailors immediately threw down their work, and, surprised and excited, rushed to the forecastle and fixed their eyes on the ocean.

Where is he, where? - the sentry was asked from all sides, a young blond sailor, whose face suddenly turned white as a sheet.

There, - the sailor pointed out with a trembling hand. - Now he's gone. And now I saw it, brothers ... I was holding on to the mast ... tied, or something, - the sailor said excitedly, trying in vain to find with his eyes the person he had just seen.

The lieutenant of the watch shuddered at the shout of the sentry and glared at the binoculars, aiming them at the space in front of the clipper.

The signalman looked in the same direction through a telescope.

See? asked the young lieutenant.

I see, your honor ... If you please take it to the left ...

But at that moment the officer saw among the waves a fragment of the mast and on it a human figure.

All hands on deck! Mainsail and fock on gits! Launch to the descent!

And, turning to the signalman, he added excitedly:

Don't lose sight of the man!

Everyone went upstairs! - the boatswain barked in a hoarse bass voice after a whistle into the tune.

As if mad, the sailors rushed to their places.

The captain and senior officer were already running onto the bridge. Half-asleep, sleepy officers, putting on their tunics as they went, climbed the ladder to the deck.

The senior officer accepted the command, as always happens in emergency situations, and as soon as his loud, abrupt command words were heard, the sailors began to carry them out with a kind of feverish impulsiveness. Everything was on fire in their hands. Everyone seemed to understand how precious every second is.

Not even seven minutes had passed, when almost all the sails, with the exception of two or three, were removed, the Ruffian lay adrift, swaying motionlessly in the middle of the ocean, and the longboat with sixteen rowers and an officer at the helm was launched.

With God blessing! - the captain shouted from the bridge to the barge that had fallen off the side.

The rowers piled on with all their might, in a hurry to save the man.

But in those seven minutes, while the clipper stopped, he managed to go more than a mile, and the fragment of the mast with the man was not visible through binoculars.

By compass, they nevertheless noticed the direction in which the mast was located, and the longboat rowed out in this direction, moving away from the clipper.

The eyes of all the sailors of the Zabiyaka followed the longboat. What an insignificant shell it seemed, now showing itself on the crests of large ocean waves, now hiding behind them.