“Mother of God.... Holy Mary ...” whispered Gavrila, trembling with fear and exertion.
The boat swung round smoothly and returned to the docks, where the ship’s lights crowded in multi-coloured groups, and the tall masts were visible.
“Hey! Who’s that shouting?” came the voice again, but it sounded more distant this time. Chelkash became calmer.
“It’s you that’s shouting,” he said in answer to the distant voice, and then he turned to Gavrila, who was still muttering his prayers, and said: “Well, brother, you’re lucky! If that devil had come after us, it would have been all up with you. Do you understand what I mean? I’d have put you over to feed the fishes!”
Chelkash now spoke calmly and even good-humouredly, but Gavrila still trembling with fear, begged of him:
“Let me go! I ask you in the name of Christ, let me go! Put me ashore somewhere! Ay-ay-ay! ... I’m lost! I’m a lost man! Remember God and let me go! What do you want me for? I’m no good for this sort of job.... I’ve never been on one like this before.... This is the first time.... Lord! I’m lost. I’m lost! Christ, how you fooled me, brother, eh? It’s a sin.... You are damning your own soul! ... Some business....”
“What business?” Chelkash asked sternly. “What business, eh?”
The lad’s fear amused him, and he delighted in it as well as in the thought of what a terrible fellow he, Chelkash, was.
“Shady business, brother! ... Let me go, for God’s sake! ... What do you want me for? ... Please.... Be good....”
“Shut up! If I didn’t need you, I wouldn’t have taken you. Do you understand? ... Well, shut up!”
“Lord!” sighed Gavrila.
“Stop snivelling, or you’ll get it in the neck!” snapped Chelkash.
But Gavrila, unable to restrain himself any longer, sobbed quietly, wept, sniffed, wriggled on his seat, but rowed strongly, desperately.
The boat shot forward like an arrow. Again the dark hulls of the ships loomed before them, and soon the boat was lost among them, winding like a shuttle in and out of the narrow strips of water between them.
“Now listen! If anybody asks you about anything, you’re to keep mum, if you want to keep alive, that is! Do you understand me?”
“Ekh!” sighed Gavrila resignedly in answer to this stern command. Then he added bitterly: “I’m done for, I am!”
“Stop snivelling, I tell you!” said Chelkash in an angry whisper.
This whisper robbed Gavrila of all capacity to think; his mind was benumbed by a chill foreboding of evil. He mechanically dropped the oars, leaned far back, raised the oars and dropped them again, all the time keeping his eyes riveted on the tips of his bast shoes.
The sleepy murmur of the waves sounded angry and terrifying. They entered the docks.... From beyond its granite walls came sounds of human voices, the splashing of water, singing and shrill whistling.
“Stop!” whispered Chelkash. “Ship your oars! Hold on to the wall! Quieter, you devil!”
Gavrila clutched at the wall and worked the boat along; the thick coating of slime that covered the masonry deadened the sound of the gunwale as it scraped along its side.
“Stop! ... Give me the oars! Come this way! Where’s your passport? In your knapsack? Give me your knapsack! Look sharp! That’s to prevent your running away, my friend.... You won’t run away now. You might have bolted without the oars, but you’d be afraid to run away without your passport. Wait here! Mind! If you blab—I’ll find you even if you’re at the bottom of the sea!”
Suddenly clutching at something with his hands, Chelkash leaped upwards and vanished over the wall.
Gavrila shuddered.... All this had happened so quickly. He felt the accursed burden of fear which weighed upon him in the presence of this bewhiskered, skinny thief, dropping, slipping off his shoulders.... Here was a chance to get away! ... He breathed a sigh of relief and looked around. On the left towered a black, mastless hull; it looked like an enormous coffin, deserted and empty.... Every wave that struck its side awoke a hollow, muffled echo that sounded like a sigh. On the right, the grey stone wall of the mole stretched above the surface of the water, like a cold, heavy serpent. Behind him loomed some black piles, and in front, in the space between the wall and the coffin, he could see the sea, silent, desolate, and the black clouds floating above it. The clouds moved across the sky slowly, large and ponderous, spreading horror out of the darkness and seeming ready to crush one with their weight. All was cold, black and sinister. Gavrila grew frightened again, and this fright was worse than that with which Chelkash imbued him; it gripped his breast in its powerful embrace, reduced him to a helpless clod and held him fast to the seat of the boat.
Silence reigned all around. Not a sound was heard, except for the sighing of the sea. The clouds still crept across the sky slowly and lazily, but they rose out of the sea in infinite numbers. The sky too looked like a sea, but a restless one, suspended over the calm, smooth and slumbering sea below. The clouds seemed to be descending upon the earth in grey, curly waves, into the chasms from which the wind had torn them, and upon the newly-rising waves, not yet crested with angry greenish foam.
Gavrila felt crushed by this gloomy silence and beauty and yearned to see his master again. Suppose he didn’t come back? ... Time passed slowly, more slowly than the clouds creeping across the sky.... And as time passed the silence became more sinister.... At last the sounds of splashing and rustling and something resembling a whisper came from the other side of the mole. Gavrila thought he would die on the spot.
“P’st! Are you asleep? Hold this.... Careful now!” It was Chelkash’s muffled voice.
Something heavy and cube-shaped dropped from the wall. Gavrila caught it and put it in the bottom of the boat. A second object of the same kind followed. And then Chelkash’s tall figure appeared over the wall, the oars appeared out of somewhere, Gavrila’s knapsack fell at his feet, and breathing heavily, Chelkash slipped into the stern of the boat.
Gavrila gazed at him with a pleased but timid smile.
“Are you tired?” he asked.
“Yes, a bit! Now then take to the oars and pull! Pull with all your might! You’ve done well, my lad! Half the job’s done. The only thing now is to slip past those devils out there—and then you can get your share and go home to your Masha. I suppose you have a Masha, haven’t you?”
“N-no!” answered Gavrila, pulling at the oars with all his might. His chest heaved like a pair of bellows and his arms worked like steel springs. The water swirled from under the boat’s keel, and the blue track at its stern was wider now. Gavrila was drenched with his own perspiration, but he continued to row with all his might. Twice that night he had had a terrible fright; he did not wish to have a third one. All he longed for was to get over this accursed job as quickly as possible, to go ashore and run away from this man before he did indeed kill him, or get him landed in jail. He decided not to discuss anything with him, not to contradict him, to do all he told him to do, and if he succeeded in escaping from him, to offer a prayer to St. Nicholas the Miracle-Worker the very next morning. An ardent prayer was ready to burst from his breast at this very moment, but he restrained himself. He puffed like a steam engine and now and again glanced at Chelkash from under his brows.
But Chelkash, tall, thin, his body bent forward, looking like a bird ready to take to flight, peered with hawkish eyes into the darkness ahead and twitched his beaklike nose. He grasped the steering oar tightly with one hand and with the other twirled his moustache, which also twitched from the smiles that twisted his thin lips. He was pleased with his haul, with himself, and with this lad who was so terribly frightened of him, and whom he had converted into his slave. He watched Gavrila putting every ounce of strength into his oars and felt sorry for him. He wanted to cheer him up.
“Hey!” he said softly with a laugh. “You were frightened, weren’t you?”
“N-no! Not much,” gasped Gavrila.
“You needn’t pull so hard now
. It’s all over. There’s only one spot that we’ve got to pass.... Take a rest....”
Gavrila obediently stopped rowing, wiped the perspiration from his face with his sleeve and dropped the oars.
“Well, have another go now,” said Chelkash after a little while. “But don’t make the water talk. There’s a gate we have to pass. Quietly now, quietly! They’re a stern lot here. . . . They wouldn’t hesitate to shoot and bore a hole in your head before you have time to shout—oh!”
The boat now glided slowly over the water making scarcely a sound, except for the blue drops that dripped from the oars and caused small, blue, momentary patches to form on the water where they fell. The night became darker and even more silent. The sky no longer resembled a storm-tossed sea—the clouds had spread and covered it with a smooth heavy blanket that hung low and motionless over the water. The sea became still calmer and blacker, its warm saline odour became still more pungent, and it no longer seemed as broad as it was before.
“I wish it would rain!” whispered Chelkash. “We’d get through as if we were behind a curtain.”
On the right and left eerie structures loomed out of the black water—barges, motionless, gloomy, and also black. But on one of them a light was moving; evidently somebody carrying a lantern was walking on the deck. The sea sounded plaintive and hollow, as it lapped against the sides of the barges, and the barges answered with a cold, muffled echo, as if arguing with the sea and refusing to yield to its plaint.
“A cordon!” exclaimed Chelkash in a scarcely audible whisper.
The moment Chelkash told him to row more slowly, Gavrila was again overcome by that feeling of tense expectation. He bent forward and peered into the darkness, and he felt as if he were growing, as if his bones and sinews were stretching within him, giving him a dull pain; his head, filled with but one thought, ached; the skin on his back quivered, and small, sharp, cold needles were shooting through his legs. His eyes ached from the tenseness with which he peered into the darkness, out of which, every moment, he expected to hear the cry: “Stop, thief!”
And now, when Chelkash whispered “cordon,” Gavrila shuddered; a piercing, burning thought shot through his brain and sent his taut nerves tingling. He wanted to shout and call for help. . . . He opened his mouth, rose slightly from the seat, stuck out his chest and took a deep breath—but suddenly he was paralysed by fear, which struck him like a whip. He closed his eyes and collapsed in the bottom of the boat.
Ahead of the boat, far away on the horizon, out of the black water, an enormous, fiery-blue sword rose and cleaved the darkness of the night; it ran its edge over the clouds and then lay on the breast of the sea, a broad blue strip. And within this bright strip ships appeared out of the darkness, ships hitherto invisible, black, silent, and shrouded in the solemn gloom of the night. They looked as though they had long been at the bottom of the sea, sent there by the mighty power of the storm, and had now risen at the command of the fiery sword that was born of the sea—had risen to look at the sky and at everything that was on the water.... Their rigging, clinging to their masts like festoons of seaweed brought up from the sea bottom together with the black giants who were enmeshed in their net. The sinister blue sword rose again out of the depth of the sea, and flashing, again cleaved the night, and again lay flat on the water, but in another direction. And where it lay, other ships’ hulls, hitherto invisible, appeared.
The boat stopped and rocked on the water as if in perplexity. Gavrila lay in the bottom of the boat, his face covered with his hands. Chelkash jabbed at him with his foot and hissed furiously:
“That’s the Customs cruiser, you fool.... It’s an electric lamp! Get up, you dolt! They’ll shine the light on us in a minute and everything will be all up with you and me! Get up!”
At last a kick from the heel of a heavy top boot heavier than the first caught Gavrila in the back. He started up, and still afraid to open his eyes, took his seat, groped for the oars and began to row.
“Quieter! Quieter, or I’ll murder you! ... What a dolt you are, the devil take you! What frightened you, ugly mug? A lantern, that’s all it is! Quieter with the oars ... you sour-faced devil! ... They’re on the lookout for smugglers. They won’t see us—they’re too far out. Don’t be afraid, they won’t see us. Now we....” Chelkash looked round triumphantly. “Of course! We’re out of it! Phew! ... Well, you’re lucky, you thick-headed boob!”
Gavrila said nothing. He pulled at the oars and, breathing heavily, looked out of the corners of his eyes in the direction where the fiery sword was rising and falling. He could not possibly believe what Chelkash said—that this was only a lantern. The cold blue radiance that cleaved the darkness caused the sea to sparkle with mysterious silvery brilliance, and Gavrila again felt hypnotized by that soul-crushing fear. He rowed mechanically, crouching as if expecting a blow from above, and now he was bereft of all desire—he was empty and soulless. The excitement of this night had driven everything human out of him.
But Chelkash was jubilant. His nerves, accustomed to shocks, were now relaxed. His moustache twitched voluptuously and a light shone in his eyes. He felt splendid. He whistled through his teeth, inhaled deep breaths of the moist sea air. He looked around, and smiled good-naturedly when his eyes fell upon Gavrila.
The wind swept down and chopped up the sea. The clouds were now thinner and less opaque, but they covered the whole sky. The wind, though still light, was freely sweeping over the sea, but the clouds were motionless and seemed to be absorbed in grey, dull thought.
“Now lad, it’s time you pulled yourself together! You look as if all your guts have been squeezed out of your body and there’s nothing left but a bag of bones! It’s all over now. Hey!”
Gavrila was pleased to hear a human voice at last, even if that voice was Chelkash’s.
“I can hear what you say,” he said softly.
“Very well, then, milksop.... Come and steer and I’ll take the oars. I suppose you’re tired.”
Gavrila mechanically changed places with Chelkash, and as they crossed, Chelkash saw the boy’s woe-begone face, and he noticed that his legs were trembling. He felt sorry for him. Patting him on the shoulder, he said:
“Come on, lad! Don’t be so down in the dumps. You’ve earned a good bit tonight. I’ll reward you well, my boy. Would you like the feel of a twenty-five ruble bill?”
“I don’t want anything. All I want is to get ashore....”
Chelkash waved his hand in disgust, spat, took up the oars and began to row, swinging the oars far back with his long arms.
The sea woke up and began to play with its little waves, giving birth to them, ornamenting them with fringes of foam, dashing them against each other, and breaking them up into fine spray. The foam melted with hisses and sighs, and the air all around was filled with a musical splashing noise. Even the darkness seemed to come to life.
Chelkash began to talk.
“Well now, tell me,” he said. “You’ll go back to your village and get married, and start grubbing the earth and sow corn. The wife will start bearing children. You won’t have enough food for them. Well, you’ll be struggling all your life.... Is there any pleasure in that?”
“Pleasure! I should say there isn’t!” answered Gavrila with a shudder.
Here and there the wind rent the clouds apart and scraps of the sky with one or two stars in them peeped between the spaces. Reflected in the sea, these stars played among the waves, now vanishing and now twinkling again.
“Steer to the right!” said Chelkash, “we shall be there soon.... Y-e-ss! ... We’re finished. It was a nice job! D’you see how it is? ... One night’s work, and we land a cool five hundred!”
“Fi-v-e hundred?!” drawled Gavrila incredulously. But he at once caught fright and hurriedly asked, kicking one of the bales at the bottom of the boat: “What’s this?”
“That’s worth a lot of money. If we sold it at its proper price we could get a thousand for it. But I’ll ask for less.... Clever, a
in’t it?”
“Y-e-s?” drawled Gavrila interrogatingly. “I wish I could get a bag like that!” he added with a sigh as he suddenly remembered his village, his wretched farm, his mother, and all that was distant and dear to him, and for the sake of which he had left home to earn some money, and had gone through all the horrors of this night. He was overwhelmed by a wave of recollections of his little village which scrambled down the steep slope to the river that was concealed by birches, willows, ash, and bird cherry.... “Wouldn’t that be fine,” he murmured with a mournful sigh.
“Ye-s!” continued Chelkash. “I’m thinking how nice it would be for you now to take the train home.... Wouldn’t you have all the girls running after you! You could choose any one you liked! You could build yourself a new house.... I don’t think you’ll have enough to build a new one though....”
“That’s true ... it won’t be enough to build a house. Timber’s dear in our parts.”
“Well, you could repair the old one. What about a horse? Have you got one?”
“A horse! Yes, I’ve got a horse, but she’s too old, the devil.”
“Well, you could buy a horse. Ekh, a f-i-n-e horse! And a cow ... sheep ... and poultry.... Eh?”
“Oh, don’t talk about it! ... Good Lord! Wouldn’t I live then!”
“Y-e-s, brother, it wouldn’t be at all bad.... I’ve got some idea of what that kind of life is. I had my own little nest once.... My father was one of the richest men in our village....”
Chelkash lazily pulled at the oars. The boat rocked on the waves that were playfully lapping against its sides, barely moving over the dark sea which was becoming more and more boisterous. The two men dreamed as they rocked on the water, thoughtfully gazing around. Wishing to soothe the lad and cheer him up, Chelkash had turned Gavrila’s thoughts to his village and had begun the talk in a bantering tone, hiding his smile under his moustache. When questioning Gavrila and reminding him of the joys of peasant life, in which he himself had long been disillusioned, had forgotten and had only recalled now he gradually allowed himself to be carried away by this new train of thought. He stopped questioning the lad about his village and its affairs, and, before he was aware of it, continued in the following strain: