dlenno i ostorozhno. Ego figura chetko  vyrisovyvalas' na yarkoj
sineve neba i napominala ogromnogo pauka, polzushchego po tonkoj niti pautiny.


     It was a slight uphill climb,  for  the foresail  peaked  high; and the
halyards,  running through  various  blocks on the  gaff and mast, gave  him
separate  holds for hands and feet. But the trouble lay in that the wind was
not  strong enough nor steady enough  to keep  the  sail  full.  When he was
half-way out, the Ghost took a long roll to windward and back again into the
hollow between  two  seas. Harrison ceased his progress and held on tightly.
Eighty feet beneath, I could  see the agonized strain of his  muscles  as he
gripped for  very life. The sail  emptied and the gaff swung amid-ships. The
halyards slackened, and, though  it all happened  very quickly,  I could see
them sag beneath the weight of his body. Then the gag swung to the side with
an abrupt swiftness, the great sail boomed like a cannon, and the three rows
of reef-points slatted against the canvas like a volley of rifles. Harrison,
clinging on, made the giddy rush through the air. This rush ceased abruptly.
The halyards became instantly taut. It was  the snap of the whip. His clutch
was  broken.  One  hand was  torn loose from its  hold.  The  other lingered
desperately for a moment, and followed. His body pitched  out and  down, but
in  some way he  managed to save himself with  his  legs. He  was hanging by
them, head  downward. A quick  effort brought  his hands  up to the halyards
again; but he was a long time regaining his former position,  where he hung,
a pitiable object.

     Garrisonu  prihodilos'   vzbirat'sya  vverh  pod  nebol'shim  uklonom,  i
dirik-fal,  propushchennyj cherez raznye  bloki na  gafele  i na  machte, koe-gde
daval oporu  dlya ruk  i nog. No beda byla v tom, chto  slabyj  i nepostoyannyj
veter  ploho napolnyal parusa. Kogda  Garrison  byl  uzhe  na  polputi  k noku
gafelya,  "Prizrak" sil'no kachnulo,  snachala v  navetrennuyu storonu,  a potom
obratno  v lozhbinu  mezhdu dvumya valami. Garrison zamer, krepko ucepivshis' za
fal. Stoya  vnizu, na rasstoyanii  vos'midesyati  futov  ot nego, ya  videl, kak
napryaglis'  ego muskuly v  otchayannoj  bor'be  za zhizn'.  Parus povis pustoj,
gafel' zakinulo,  fal oslabel, i hotya vse proizoshlo mgnovenno,  ya videl, kak
on prognulsya pod tyazhest'yu matrosa. Potom gafel' vnezapno vernulsya v  prezhnee
polozhenie,  ogromnyj  parus,  naduvayas', hlopnul tak,  slovno  vystrelili iz
pushki, a tri  ryada rif-shtertov zashchelkali  po  parusine, sozdavaya vpechatlenie
ruzhejnoj  pal'by. Garrison,  ucepivshijsya za fal, sovershil golovokruzhitel'nyj
polet. No polet etot vnezapno prekratilsya.  Fal natyanulsya, i eto i byl  udar
knuta,  stryahivayushchij  muhu.  Garrison ne uderzhalsya. Odna  ruka ego otpustila
fal, drugaya  sekundu  eshche  ceplyalas', no  tol'ko  sekundu.  Odnako v  moment
padeniya matros kakim-to chudom uhitrilsya  zacepit'sya za snasti nogami i povis
vniz golovoj. Izognuvshis', on snova uhvatilsya rukami za fal. Malo-pomalu emu
udalos'  vosstanovit'  prezhnee  polozhenie, i  on  zhalkim komochkom  prilip  k
snastyam.


     "I'll bet he has no appetite for  supper," I heard Wolf Larsen's voice,
which came to me  from around the corner of  the galley. "Stand from  under,
you, Johansen! Watch out! Here she comes!"

     -- Pozhaluj,  eto otob'et  u  nego appetit k uzhinu,  --  uslyshal ya golos
Volka   Larsena,   kotoryj  poyavilsya  iz-za   ugla   kambuza.  --  Polundra,
IogansenBeregites'Sejchas nachnetsya!


     In truth, Harrison was  very  sick,  as a person is sea-sick; and for a
long time he  clung to  his precarious  perch  without  attempting  to move.
Johansen, however, continued violently to  urge him on  to the completion of
his task.

     I  dejstvitel'no,  Garrisonu  bylo durno, kak  pri morskoj bolezni.  On
visel,  ucepivshis'  za snasti, i ne reshalsya dvinut'sya dal'she. No Iogansen ne
perestaval yarostno ponukat' ego, trebuya, chtoby on vypolnil prikazanie.


     "It is a shame," I heard Johnson growling in painfully slow and correct
English.  He was standing by the main rigging, a few feet away from me. "The
boy is willing enough. He will learn if he has a chance. But  this is - " He
paused awhile, for the word "murder" was his final judgment.

     --  Styd i  pozor!  -- provorchal  Dzhonson,  medlenno  i  s  trudom,  no
pravil'no  vygovarivaya anglijskie slova. On  stoyal  u grot-vant v neskol'kih
shagah ot menya. -- Malyj i tak  staraetsya. Nauchilsya by ponemnogu. A eto... On
umolk, prezhde chem slovo "ubijstvo" sorvalos' u nego s yazyka.


     "Hist, will ye!" Louis whispered to  him, "For the  love iv your mother
hold your mouth!"

     --  Tishe  ty! --  shepnul  emu  Luis. -- Pomalkivaj,  koli tebe zhizn' ne
nadoela!


     But Johnson, looking on, still continued his grumbling.

     No Dzhonson ne unimalsya i prodolzhal vorchat'.


     "Look here,"  the  hunter Standish  spoke  to Wolf  Larsen,  "that's my
boat-puller, and I don't want to lose him."

     -- Poslushajte,  --  skazal  odin  iz  ohotnikov, Stendish,  obrashchayas'  k
kapitanu, -- eto moj grebec, ya ne hochu poteryat' ego.


     "That's  all right, Standish," was  the reply.  "He's your boat- puller
when you've got him in the boat; but he's  my sailor when I have him aboard,
and I'll do what I damn well please with him."

     -- Ladno, Stendish, -- posledoval otvet. -- On grebec, kogda on u vas na
shlyupke, no na shhune --  on  moj matros, i ya  mogu rasporyazhat'sya im,  kak mne
zablagorassuditsya, chert poderi!


     "But that's no reason - " Standish began in a torrent of speech.

     -- |to eshche ne znachit... -- nachal bylo snova Stendish.


     "That'll do, easy as she goes," Wolf Larsen counselled back. "I've told
you what's what, and let it stop at that. The man's mine, and I'll make soup
of him and eat it if I want to."

     -- Hvatit! -- ogryznulsya  Larsen. -- YA skazal, i tochka. |to moj matros,
i ya mogu svarit' iz nego sup i sŽest', esli pozhelayu.


     There was an angry gleam in the hunter's eye, but he turned on his heel
and entered  the steerage companion-way,  where he remained, looking upward.
All  hands were on deck now, and all eyes were aloft, where a human life was
at grapples with death.  The  callousness of these men,  to  whom industrial
organization gave  control of the lives of other men, was  appalling. I, who
had lived out of the whirl of the world, had never dreamed that its work was
carried on  in  such fashion. Life had  always seemed  a  peculiarly  sacred
thing, but  here it counted for nothing, was a cipher in the  arithmetic  of
commerce. I must say, however, that the sailors themselves were sympathetic,
as  instance  the  case of  Johnson;  but the masters  (the  hunters and the
captain) were heartlessly indifferent. Even  the  protest  of Standish arose
out  of the  fact that he did not  wish to lose his boat-puller. Had it been
some other hunter's boat-puller, he, like them, would have been no more than
amused.

     Zloj ogonek sverknul v  glazah ohotnika, no on smolchal  i napravilsya  k
kubriku; ostanovivshis' na trape, on vzglyanul  vverh. Vse matrosy  stolpilis'
teper'  na palube; vse  glaza byli obrashcheny tuda, gde  shla  bor'ba zhizni  so
smert'yu. CHerstvost', besserdechie teh lyudej, kotorym sovremennyj promyshlennyj
stroj predostavil  vlast' nad zhizn'yu drugih,  uzhasnuli menya. Mne,  stoyavshemu
vsegda v storone ot zhitejskogo vodovorota, dazhe na um ne prihodilo, chto trud
cheloveka mozhet byt' sopryazhen s  takoj opasnost'yu.  CHelovecheskaya zhizn' vsegda
predstavlyalas' mne chem-to vysoko svyashchennym, a zdes' ee ne stavili ni vo chto,
zdes'  ona  byla  ne  bol'she  kak  cifroj  v kommercheskih  raschetah.  Dolzhen
ogovorit'sya: matrosy sochuvstvovali  svoemu tovarishchu, vzyat', k primeru,  togo
zhe  Dzhonsona,  no  nachal'stvo -- kapitan  i  ohotniki  --  proyavlyalo  polnoe
besserdechie i ravnodushie. Ved' i Stendish  vstupilsya za matrosa  lish' potomu,
chto ne hotel poteryat' grebca. Bud' eto grebec s drugoj shlyupki, on otnessya by
k proisshestviyu tak zhe, kak ostal'nye, ono tol'ko pozabavilo by ego.


     But to return to Harrison. It took Johansen, insulting and reviling the
poor wretch, fully ten minutes  to get him started again. A little later  he
made the  end of the gaff, where, astride the  spar itself,  he had a better
chance  for  holding  on.  He  cleared the sheet,  and was  free  to return,
slightly downhill now, along the  halyards to the mast. But  he had lost his
nerve.  Unsafe as was his  present position, he was loath to forsake  it for
the more unsafe position on the halyards.

     No  vernemsya  k Garrisonu.  Minut desyat'  Iogansen vsyacheski  ponukal  i
ponosil  neschastnogo  i  zastavil  ego  nakonec  dvinut'sya  s mesta.  Matros
dobralsya vse zhe do noka gafelya. Tam on uselsya na  gafel' verhom, i emu stalo
legche derzhat'sya. On ochistil shkot i mog teper' vernut'sya, spustivshis' po falu
k machte. No u nego uzhe, kak vidno, ne hvatalo duhu.  On ne reshalsya promenyat'
svoe opasnoe polozhenie na eshche bolee opasnyj spusk.


     He looked along  the airy path he must traverse, and  then  down to the
deck. His eyes were wide and staring, and he was trembling violently.  I had
never  seen fear  so  strongly stamped upon a  human face.  Johansen  called
vainly for him to come down. At  any moment he was liable to he  snapped off
the gaff, but he was helpless with fright. Wolf Larsen, walking up  and down
with  Smoke and in conversation, took no more notice of him, though he cried
sharply, once, to the man at the wheel:

     Rasshirennymi ot straha glazami on poglyadyval  na tot put',  kotoryj emu
predstoyalo sovershit' vysoko v vozduhe, potom perevodil vzglyad na palubu. Ego
tryaslo,  kak  v lihoradke.  Mne nikogda  eshche ne  sluchalos' videt'  vyrazheniya
takogo smertel'nogo ispuga na chelovecheskom lice. Tshchetno Iogansen krichal emu,
chtoby on spuskalsya. Kazhduyu minutu ego moglo sbrosit' s gafelya, no  on prilip
k nemu, ocepenev ot  uzhasa. Volk Larsen progulivalsya po  palube, beseduya  so
Smokom, i ne obrashchal bol'she nikakogo vnimaniya na Garrisona, tol'ko raz rezko
okriknul rulevogo:


     "You're off your course, my man! Be  careful, unless you're looking for
trouble!"

     -- Ty soshel s kursa, priyatel'. Smotri, poluchish' u menya!


     "Ay, ay, sir," the helmsman responded, putting a couple of spokes down.

     -- Est', ser, -- otvechal rulevoj i nemnogo povernul shturval.


     He had been guilty of  running the Ghost  several points off her course
in order that what little wind there was should fill  the foresail and  hold
it steady. He had striven to  help the  unfortunate Harrison  at the risk of
incurring Wolf Larsen's anger.

     Ego provinnost'  sostoyala v tom, chto on slegka otklonil shhunu ot kursa,
chtoby  slabyj veter mog hot' nemnogo  nadut' parusa i  uderzhivat' ih v odnom
polozhenii. |tim on pytalsya pomoch'  zlopoluchnomu Garrisonu, riskuya navlech' na
sebya gnev Volka Larsena.


     The  time  went  by, and  the  suspense,  to  me, was  terrible. Thomas
Mugridge, on  the other  hand, considered it  a  laughable  affair, and  was
continually bobbing his head out the galley door to make jocose remarks. How
I hated him!  And how my hatred  for him  grew and grew, during that fearful
time, to cyclopean dimensions. For the first time in  my life I  experienced
the desire to murder - "saw  red," as some of our picturesque writers phrase
it. Life  in general  might still be sacred, but life in the particular case
of Thomas Mugridge had become  very profane indeed. I  was frightened when I
became conscious that I was seeing red, and the thought  flashed through  my
mind: was I, too, becoming tainted by the brutality of my environment? -  I,
who  even  in  the   most  flagrant  crimes   had  denied  the  justice  and
righteousness of capital punishment?

     Vremya shlo, i  napryazhenie stanovilos' nevynosimym.  Odnako Tomas Magridzh
nahodil eto proisshestvie chrezvychajno zabavnym.  Kazhduyu  minutu on  vysovyval
golovu  iz kambuza i otpuskal shutochki. Kak ya nenavidel ego!  Moya nenavist' k
nemu vyrosla za  eti strashnye  minuty  do ispolinskih razmerov. Pervyj raz v
zhizni  ya ispytyval zhelanie ubit' cheloveka.  YA "zhazhdal krovi", kak vyrazhayutsya
nekotorye  nashi  pisateli  i  lyubiteli pyshnyh  oborotov. ZHizn'  voobshche, byt'
mozhet,  svyashchenna,  no  zhizn'  Tomasa  Magridzha  predstavlyalas'   mne  chem-to
prezrennym i nechestivym. Pochuvstvovav zhazhdu ubijstva, ya  ispugalsya, i u menya
mel'knula mysl': neuzheli  grubost' okruzhayushchej sredy tak  na  menya  povliyala?
Ved'  ne  ya  li  vsegda  utverzhdal,  chto  smertnaya   kazn'  nespravedliva  i
nedopustima dazhe dlya samyh zakorenelyh prestupnikov?


     Fully half-an-hour  went by, and then I saw Johnson and Louis  in  some
sort of altercation. It  ended with Johnson  flinging  off Louis's detaining
arm and starting forward. He crossed the deck, sprang into the fore rigging,
and began to climb. But the quick eye of Wolf Larsen caught him.

     Proshlo ne men'she poluchasa, a zatem ya zametil, chto Dzhonson i Luis goryacho
o chem-to sporyat. Spor konchilsya tem, chto Dzhonson otmahnulsya ot Luisa, kotoryj
pytalsya ego uderzhat',  i  napravilsya kuda-to.  On peresek palubu, prygnul na
for-vanty i polez vverh. |to ne uskol'znulo ot ostrogo vzora Volka Larsena.


     "Here, you, what are you up to?" he cried.

     -- |j, ty! Kuda? -- kriknul on.


     Johnson's ascent was arrested.  He looked his captain  in the eyes  and
replied slowly:

     Dzhonson ostanovilsya. Glyadya v upor na kapitana, on netoroplivo otvetil:


     "I am going to get that boy down."

     -- Hochu snyat' parnya.


     "You'll get  down  out of  that rigging, and damn lively about it! D'ye
hear? Get down!"

     -- Spustis' siyu zhe minutu vniz, chert tebya deri! Slyshish'? Vniz!


     Johnson  hesitated, but the long  years  of obedience to the masters of
ships  overpowered  him,  and he dropped  sullenly to  the deck  and went on
forward.

     Dzhonson medlil, no mnogoletnyaya privychka podchinyat'sya prikazu peresilila,
i, spustivshis' s mrachnym vidom na palubu, on ushel na bak.


     At half after five I went below  to set the  cabin  table, but I hardly
knew what  I did, for my eyes and my brain were filled with the vision of  a
man, white-faced  and  trembling,  comically  like a  bug, clinging  to  the
thrashing  gaff. At six o'clock, when I served supper, going on  deck to get
the food from  the  galley, I saw Harrison, still in the  same position. The
conversation  at the table was of other things. Nobody seemed  interested in
the wantonly imperilled  life. But making  an  extra trip  to the  galley  a
little later, I was gladdened  by the  sight of  Harrison  staggering weakly
from  the rigging to the  forecastle scuttle. He  had  finally  summoned the
courage to descend.

     V polovine shestogo ya napravilsya v kayut-kompaniyu nakryvat' na  stol,  no
pochti  ne  soznaval, chto delayu.  YA  videl tol'ko  raskachivayushchijsya  gafel'  i
prilepivshegosya k nemu blednogo,  drozhashchego ot straha matrosa, pohozhego snizu
na kakuyu-to  smeshnuyu  kozyavku.  V shest' chasov, podavaya  obed i  probegaya  po
palube  v kambuz,  ya  videl  Garrisona vse v tom zhe polozhenii.  Razgovor  za
stolom shel o chem-to postoronnem.  Nikogo, po-vidimomu, ne interesovala zhizn'
etogo  cheloveka,  podvergnutaya  smertel'noj  opasnosti  potehi radi.  Odnako
nemnogo  pozzhe, lishnij  raz sbegav  v  kambuz,  ya, k  svoej velikoj radosti,
uvidel Garrisona, kotoryj, ne tayas', brel ot vant k lyuku na bake. On nakonec
sobralsya s duhom i spustilsya.


     Before closing this incident, I must give a scrap of conversation I had
with Wolf Larsen in the cabin, while I was washing the dishes.

     -- CHtob  pokonchit'  s  etim  sluchaem,  ya dolzhen  vkratce peredat'  svoj
razgovor s Volkom Larsenom, -- on zagovoril so mnoj v kayut-kompanii, kogda ya
ubiral posudu.


     "You were looking squeamish this  afternoon,"  he began.  "What was the
matter?"

     -- CHto eto u vas segodnya takoj zhalkij vid? -- nachal on. -- V chem delo?


     I could see that he knew what had made me possibly as sick as Harrison,
that he was trying to draw me, and I answered, "It was because of the brutal
treatment of that boy."

     YA videl,  chto on otlichno ponimaet, pochemu ya  chuvstvuyu sebya pochti tak zhe
hudo, kak Garrison, no  hochet vyzvat' menya na  otkrovennost', i otvechal:  --
Menya rasstroilo zhestokoe obrashchenie s etim malym.


     He gave  a short laugh.  "Like  sea-sickness, I  suppose.  Some men are
subject to it, and others are not."

     On  usmehnulsya.  --  |to  u  vas  nechto  vrode  morskoj  bolezni.  Odni
podverzheny ej, drugie -- net.


     "Not so," I objected.

     -- CHto zhe tut obshchego? -- vozrazil ya.


     "Just so," he went on. "The earth is as full of brutality as the sea is
full  of  motion. And some  men are  made sick by  the one, and  some by the
other. That's the only reason."

     --  Ochen'  mnogo  obshchego,  --  prodolzhal on.  --  Zemlya  tak  zhe  polna
zhestokost'yu,  kak  more -- dvizheniem. Inye  ne  perenosyat  pervoj, drugie --
vtorogo. Vot i vsya prichina.


     "But you, who make a mock of human life, don't you place any value upon
it whatever?" I demanded.

     -- Vy tak  izdevaetes' nad chelovecheskoj zhizn'yu, neuzheli  vy ne pridaete
ej nikakoj ceny? -- sprosil ya.


     "Value? What value?" He  looked at me, and though his eyes  were steady
and motionless, there seemed  a cynical smile  in them. "What kind of value?
How do you measure it? Who values it?"

     -- Ceny! Kakoj  ceny?  --  On  posmotrel  na menya,  i ya prochel cinichnuyu
usmeshku v ego surovom pristal'nom vzglyade.  -- O kakoj cene vy govorite? Kak
vy ee opredelite? Kto cenit zhizn'?


     "I do," I made answer.

     -- YA cenyu, -- otvetil ya.


     "Then  what is it worth to you? Another man's  life, I  mean. Come now,
what is it worth?"

     -- Kak  zhe  vy ee  cenite?  YA imeyu  v  vidu  chuzhuyu zhizn'. Skol'ko  ona,
po-vashemu, stoit?


     The value of life? How could I put a tangible  value upon it?  Somehow,
I, who have always had  expression, lacked expression when with Wolf Larsen.
I have since determined that a part of it was due to the  man's personality,
but that the greater part was due to  his totally different  outlook. Unlike
other materialists I had  met  and  with  whom I had something  in common to
start on, I  had nothing  in common with  him.  Perhaps,  also,  it  was the
elemental simplicity of his mind  that baffled me.  He  drove so directly to
the core  of  the  matter, divesting a  question  always  of all superfluous
details,  and with such an air of  finality, that I seemed  to  find  myself
struggling in deep water, with no footing under me. Value of life? How could
I answer the question on the spur of  the moment? The sacredness of  life  I
had accepted as axiomatic. That it was intrinsically valuable was a truism I
had never questioned. But when he challenged the truism I was speechless.

     Cena zhizni! Kak mog ya opredelit' ee? Privykshij yasno i svobodno izlagat'
svoi  mysli,  ya  v prisutstvii  Larsena pochemu-to  ne  nahodil nuzhnyh  slov.
Otchasti ya obŽyasnyal sebe eto tem, chto ego lichnost' podavlyala menya, no glavnaya
prichina krylas' vse  zhe v polnoj protivopolozhnosti nashih vozzrenij. V sporah
s drugimi materialistami ya vsegda mog hot' v  chem-to najti obshchij yazyk, najti
kakuyu-to  otpravnuyu tochku,  no s Volkom Larsenom  u menya  ne bylo  ni edinoj
tochki soprikosnoveniya. Byt'  mozhet,  menya sbivala  s tolku primitivnost' ego
myshleniya:  on  srazu  pristupal  k  tomu,  chto   schital  sushchestvom  voprosa,
otbrasyvaya  vse,  kazavsheesya  emu  melkim  i neznachitel'nym,  i  govoril tak
bezapellyacionno,  chto  ya teryal pochvu pod  nogamи. Cena zhizniKak mog  ya
srazu, ne zadumyvayas', otvetit'  na takoj  vopros? ZHizn' svyashchenna  --  eto ya
prinimal za aksiomu. Cennost' ee  v nej  samoj -- eto  bylo  stol' ochevidnoj
istinoj,  chto mne nikogda ne prihodilo v golovu  podvergat' ee  somneniyu. No
kogda  Larsen potreboval, chtoby  ya  nashel  podtverzhdenie  etoj obshcheizvestnoj
istine, ya rasteryalsya.


     "We were talking about this yesterday," he said.  "I held that life was
a ferment, a yeasty something which  devoured  life that  it might live, and
that living was merely successful piggishness. Why, if there is anything  in
supply and demand, life is the cheapest thing in the world. There is only so
much water, so much earth, so much air; but the life that is demanding to be
born  is  limitless. Nature is a  spendthrift.  Look at the  fish  and their
millions of eggs. For  that matter, look at you and me. In our loins are the
possibilities of  millions of lives. Could we but find time and  opportunity
and utilize  the last bit and every bit of the unborn life that is in us, we
could become  the fathers of nations  and populate continents. Life? Bah! It
has no value. Of  cheap things  it  is  the  cheapest.  Everywhere  it  goes
begging.  Nature spills it out with a lavish hand. Where there  is  room for
one  life,  she sows a  thousand  lives,  and it's  life eats life till  the
strongest and most piggish life is left."

     -- My  s vami  besedovali  ob etom vchera, -- skazal on.  -- YA sravnival
zhizn' s zakvaskoj, s drozhzhevym gribkom,  kotoryj  pozhiraet zhizn', chtoby zhit'
samomu, i utverzhdal, chto zhizn' -- eto prosto torzhestvuyushchee svinstvo. S tochki
zreniya  sprosa  i predlozheniya zhizn' samaya deshevaya veshch' na svete.  Kolichestvo
vody,  zemli  i  vozduha  ogranicheno,  no  zhizn',  kotoraya porozhdaet  zhizn',
bezgranichna.  Priroda  rastochitel'na. Voz'mite ryb  s millionami ikrinok.  I
voz'mite sebya ili  menya! V nashih chreslah tozhe zalozheny milliony zhiznej. Imej
my  vozmozhnost'  darovat' zhizn' kazhdoj krupice zalozhennoj v  nas nerozhdennoj
zhizni, my mogli by mogli by  ekat' otcami narodov i naselit' celye materiki.
ZHizn'? Pustoe! Ona nichego ne stoit. Iz vseh deshevyh veshchej ona samaya deshevaya.
Ona stuchitsya vo vse dveri. Priroda rassypaet ee shchedroj rukoj. Gde est' mesto
dlya odnoj zhizni, tam ona seet tysyachi, i vezde zhizn'  pozhiraet zhizn', poka ne
ostaetsya lish' samaya sil'naya i samaya svinskaya.


     "You  have read Darwin,"  I said. "But you read him  misunderstandingly
when you  conclude  that the struggle for existence  sanctions  your  wanton
destruction of life."

     -- Vy  chitali Darvina,  -- zametil ya. -- No vy prevratno tolkuete  ego,
esli  dumaete,   chto  bor'ba   za   sushchestvovanie  opravdyvaet  proizvol'noe
razrushenie vami chuzhih zhiznej.


     He shrugged his shoulders.

     On pozhal plechami.


     "You  know  you only  mean that in relation  to  human life, for of the
flesh and the fowl and the fish you destroy as much  as  I or any other man.
And human life is in no wise different, though you feel it is and think that
you reason why it  is. Why should I be parsimonious with  this life which is
cheap and without  value? There are more sailors than there are ships on the
sea for  them,  more workers  than there are factories or machines for them.
Why, you who live on the land know  that you house your  poor people in  the
slums of cities and  loose famine and  pestilence  upon them, and that there
still remain more poor people, dying for want of a crust of  bread and a bit
of meat (which is life destroyed), than you know what to do  with. Have  you
ever  seen  the London dockers  fighting  like  wild beasts  for a chance to
work?"

     -- Vy, ochevidno, imeete v vidu lish' chelovecheskuyu zhizn', tak kak zverej,
i ptic, i ryb  vy unichtozhaete ne men'she, chem ya ili  lyuboj drugoj chelovek. No
chelovecheskaya zhizn' nichem ne otlichaetsya  ot vsyakoj prochej  zhizni,  hotya vam i
kazhetsya, chto eto ne tak, i vy yakoby vidite kakuyu-to raznicu. Pochemu ya dolzhen
berech' etu zhizn', raz ona tak deshevo stoit i ne imeet cennosti? Dlya matrosov
ne hvataet  korablej  na  more,  tak zhe kak dlya  rabochih na sushe ne  hvataet
fabrik i mashin.  Vy, zhivushchie na  sushe, otlichno znaete, chto, skol'ko by vy ni
vytesnyali bednyakov  na  okrainy, v  gorodskie trushchoby, otdavaya ih  vo vlast'
goloda  i  epidemij,  i skol'ko by  ih merlo iz-za otsutstviya korki hleba  i
kuska  myasa (to  est'  toj  zhe razrushennoj zhizni),  ih eshche ostaetsya  slishkom
mnogo,  i vy ne  znaete,  chto  s  nimi delat'. Videli  vy kogda-nibud',  kak
londonskie gruzchiki derutsya, slovno dikie zveri, iz-za vozmozhnosti  poluchit'
rabotu?


     He started for  the companion stairs, but  turned  his head for a final
word.

     On  napravilsya  k   trapu,  no  obernulsya,  chtoby  skazat'  eshche  chto-to
naposledok.


     "Do you know the only value life has is what life puts upon itself? And
it is of  course over-estimated since it  is of necessity prejudiced  in its
own favour. Take that man I had aloft. He held on as  if he were a  precious
thing, a treasure  beyond diamonds or rubies. To you? No. To me? Not at all.
To  himself? Yes. But  I do  not accept  his  estimate.  He sadly  overrates
himself. There is plenty  more life  demanding to be born. Had he fallen and
dripped his brains  upon the deck like honey from the comb, there would have
been no loss to the world. He was worth nothing  to the world. The supply is
too large. To  himself only was he of value, and to show how fictitious even
this value was, being dead he is unconscious  that  he has  lost himself. He
alone  rated himself  beyond  diamonds and rubies.  Diamonds  and rubies are
gone, spread out on the  deck  to be washed away by a  bucket of sea- water,
and he does not even know that the diamonds and rubies are gone. He does not
lose anything, for with the loss of himself he loses the knowledge  of loss.
Don't you see? And what have you to say?"

     --  Vidite li, zhizn'  ne imeet nikakoj ceny, krome toj,  kakuyu ona sama
sebe pridaet. I, konechno, ona sebya ocenivaet, tak kak  neizbezhno pristrastna
k sebe. Voz'mite hot' etogo matrosa, kotorogo ya segodnya derzhal na  machte. On
ceplyalsya za zhizn' tak, budto eto nevest' kakoe sokrovishche, dragocennee vsyakih
brilliantov ili rubinov. Imeet li ona dlya vas takuyu cennost'? Net. Dlya menya?
Niskol'ko. Dlya  nego samogo? Nesomnenno. No ya  ne soglasen s ego ocenkoj, on
chrezmerno pereocenivaet sebya. Beschislennye novye zhizni zhdut svoego rozhdeniya.
Esli by on upal i razbryzgal svoi mozgi po palube, slovno med  iz sotov, mir
nichego ne poteryal by ot etogo. On ne predstavlyaet dlya mira nikakoj cennosti.
Predlozhenie slishkom veliko. Tol'ko v svoih sobstvennyh glazah imeet on cenu,
i  zamet'te, naskol'ko  eta cennost' obmanchiva, --  ved', mertvyj, on uzhe ne
soznaval by etoj  poteri.  Tol'ko  on odin i cenit sebya dorozhe brilliantov i
rubinov. I vot brillianty i rubiny propadut, rassyplyutsya po palube, ih smoyut
v okean vedrom vody, a on dazhe ne  budet znat' ob ih ischeznovenii. On nichego
ne  poteryaet, tak kak s poterej samogo sebya  utratit i soznanie  poteri. Nu?
CHto vy skazhete?


     "That you are at least consistent," was  all I could say, and I went on
washing the dishes.

     -- CHto vy po krajnej mere posledovatel'ny, --  otvetil ya. |to bylo vse,
chto ya mog skazat', i ya snova zanyalsya myt'em tarelok.


        CHAPTER VII

        GLAVA VII


     At  last,  after  three  days of variable  winds,  we  have caught  the
north-east trades. I came  on deck, after a good night's rest in spite of my
poor  knee, to find the Ghost foaming along, wing-and- wing,  and every sail
drawing except the  jibs, with a fresh breeze astern. Oh, the wonder of  the
great trade-wind!  All day we sailed,  and all night, and the  next day, and
the  next, day after day,  the wind  always astern and blowing steadily  and
strong. The schooner sailed herself.  There was  no  pulling  and hauling on
sheets and tackles, no shifting of topsails,  no work at all for the sailors
to  do  except  to steer. At  night when the sun  went down, the sheets were
slackened; in  the morning, when  they yielded up the damp of  the  dew  and
relaxed, they were pulled tight again - and that was all.

     Nakonec posle treh dnej  peremennyh  vetrov my pojmali severo-vostochnyj
passat. YA vyshel na palubu,  horosho vyspavshis', nesmotrya  na bol' v kolene, i
uvidel,  chto "Prizrak",  penya  volny,  letit,  kak  na  kryl'yah,  pod  vsemi
parusami, krome kliverov. V kormu  dul svezhij  veter.  Kakoe chudo eti moshchnye
passatyVes' den' my shli vpered i vsyu noch' i tak  izo dnya v  den', a rovnyj i
sil'nyj  veter vse vremya dul nam v kormu.  SHhuna  sama letela vpered,  i  ne
nuzhno bylo vybirat'  i travit' vsevozmozhnye snasti ili perenosit' topselya, i
matrosam ostavalos'  tol'ko nesti vahtu  u shturvala. Vecherami, posle  zahoda
solnca, shkoty  nemnogo potravlivali, a  po  utram,  dav im prosohnut'  posle
rosy, snova dobirali, -- i eto bylo vse.


     Ten  knots,  twelve knots, eleven knots, varying  from time to time, is
the  speed we are  making. And  ever  out of the  north-east  the brave wind
blows, driving us  on  our  course two hundred and fifty  miles  between the
dawns. It saddens me and gladdens me, the gait with which we are leaving San
Francisco behind and  with which we are foaming down  upon the tropics. Each
day grows  perceptibly warmer. In  the second  dog-watch the sailors come on
deck, stripped, and  heave buckets of water upon  one another from overside.
Flying-fish are beginning to  be  seen, and during the night the watch above
scrambles  over  the  deck in  pursuit of  those  that fall  aboard. In  the
morning, Thomas Mugridge  being duly bribed, the galley  is pleasantly areek
with the odour of their frying; while dolphin meat is served fore and aft on
such  occasions as Johnson  catches the blazing  beauties from  the bowsprit
end.

     Nasha skorost'  --  desyat',  odinnadcat',  inoj raz  dvenadcat' uzlov. A
poputnyj veter vse duet i  duet  s  severo-vostoka, i my za  sutki pokryvaem
dvesti pyat'desyat  mil'. Menya  i pechalit i raduet eta skorost', s  kotoroj my
udalyaemsya  ot  San-Francisko  i  priblizhaemsya  k  tropikam.  S  kazhdym  dnem
stanovitsya vse teplee. Vo vremya vtoroj vechernej poluvahty matrosy vyhodyat na
palubu,  razdevayutsya  i  okatyvayut   drug  druga  morskoj   vodoj.  Nachinayut
poyavlyat'sya letuchie ryby, i noch'yu vahtennye polzayut po palube,  lovya teh, chto
padayut  k nam na shhunu. A utrom, esli udaetsya podkupit' Magridzha, iz kambuza
nesetsya priyatnyj zapah zharenoj  ryby. Poroj  vse  lakomyatsya myasom  del'fina,
kogda Dzhonsonu poschastlivitsya pojmat' s bushprita odnogo iz etih krasavcev.


     Johnson  seems  to  spend  all  his spare  time  there  or aloft at the
crosstrees, watching the Ghost cleaving the water under press of sail. There
is passion, adoration, in his eyes, and he goes about in a  sort of  trance,
gazing in ecstasy at the swelling sails, the foaming wake, and the heave and
the run of her over the liquid mountains that  are moving with us in stately
procession.

     Dzhonson provodit  tam  vse  svoe svobodnoe  vremya  ili zhe  zaberetsya na
saling i smotrit, kak "Prizrak", gonimyj passatom, rassekaet vodu. Strast' i
upoenie  svetyatsya  v  ego  vzglyade,  on  hodit,  kak  v  transe,  voshishchenno
poglyadyvaya  na razduvayushchiesya  parusa,  na  penistyj  sled  korablya,  na  ego
svobodnyj  beg po vysokim volnam,  kotorye dvizhutsya  vmeste s nami velichavoj
processiej.


     The days and nights are "all a wonder and a wild delight," and though I
have little time from my dreary  work, I  steal odd moments to gaze and gaze
at  the unending  glory of what  I never dreamed the world possessed. Above,
the sky is stainless blue - blue as the sea itself, which under the forefoot
is of the colour and sheen of azure satin. All around the horizon  are pale,
fleecy  clouds, never  changing, never moving, like a silver setting for the
flawless turquoise sky.

     Dni  i nochi  --  "chudo  i  neistovyj  vostorg", i  hotya  nudnaya  rabota
pogloshchaet  vse  moe  vremya,  ya  vse  zhe   starayus'  uluchit'  minutku,  chtoby
polyubovat'sya  etoj  beskonechnoj  torzhestvuyushchej  krasotoj,   o  sushchestvovanii
kotoroj  nikogda prezhde  i ne  podozreval. Nad nami sinee, bezoblachnoe nebo,
povtoryayushchee ottenki morya,  kotoroe  pod  forshtevnem blestit i  otlivaet, kak
goluboj   atlas.  Po   gorizontu  protyanulis'   legkie,   peristye  oblachka,
neizmennye, nepodvizhnye, tochno serebryanaya oprava yarkogo biryuzovogo svoda.


     I do not forget one night, when  I should have been asleep, of lying on
the  forecastle-head and gazing down at the  spectral ripple  of foam thrust
aside by the Ghost's  forefoot. It sounded like the gurgling of a brook over
mossy stones in some quiet dell, and the crooning song  of  it lured me away
and out of myself till I was  no longer Hump the cabin-boy,  nor Van Weyden,
the  man who  had  dreamed away thirty-five  years among  books. But a voice
behind me, the unmistakable voice of Wolf Larsen, strong with the invincible
certitude  of  the  man and  mellow with appreciation  of the  words he  was
quoting, aroused me.

     Nadolgo  zapomnilas' mne odna  noch', kogda,  zabyv pro son,  lezhal ya na
polubake i smotrel na perelivchatuyu igru peny, burlivshej u forshtevnya. Do menya
doletali zvuki, napominavshie  zhurchanie ruchejka  po mshistym  kamnyam  v tihom,
uedinennom ushchel'e. Oni ubayukivali, unosili kuda-to daleko, zastavlyaya zabyt',
chto ya --  yunga "Hemp", byvshij nekogda Hemfri  Van-Vejdenom, kotoryj tridcat'
pyat' let svoej zhizni prosidel  nad  knigami.  Menya vernul k dejstvitel'nosti
golos  Volka Larsena,  kak vsegda  sil'nyj  i  uverennyj,  no s  neobychajnoj
myagkost'yu i zataennym vostorgom proiznosivshij takie slova:


     "'O  the blazing tropic night,  when the  wake's a welt  of  light That
holds  the  hot  sky  tame,  And  the  steady  forefoot snores  through  the
planet-powdered floors Where the scared  whale  flukes  in flame. Her plates
are scarred by the sun, dear lass, And her ropes are taut with the dew,  For
we're  booming down on the  old trail, our  own trail, the out  trail, We're
sagging south on the Long Trail - the trail that is always new.'"

     YUzhnyh zvezd iskristyj svet, za kormoj  srebristyj  sled,  Kak doroga  v
nebosvod. Kil'  vzrezaet  penu voln,  parus rovnym vetrom  poln. Kit  drobit
sverkan'e vod. Snasti  bleshchut rosoj po  utram, Solnce  sushit obshivku bortov.
Pered nami put', put', znakomyj nam, -- Put' na yug, staryj drug, on  dlya nas
vechno nov!


     "Eh, Hump? How's it strike you?" he asked,  after  the  due pause which
words and setting demanded.

     --  Nu  kak, Hemp? Nravitsya  vam eto? -- sprosil on menya, pomolchav, kak
togo trebovali stihi i obstanovka.


     I looked into his face. It was aglow with light, as the sea itself, and
the eyes were flashing in the starshine.

     YA vzglyanul  na nego. Lico  ego bylo ozareno svetom, kak  samo  more,  i
glaza sverkali.


     "It strikes me  as remarkable, to say the least, that  you should  show
enthusiasm," I answered coldly.

     -- Menya  porazhaet,  chto vy  sposobny na  takoj  entuziazm,  --  holodno
otvechal ya.


     "Why, man, it's living! it's life!" he cried.

     -- Pochemu zhe? |to govorit vo mne zhizn'! -- voskliknul on.


     "Which is a cheap thing and without value." I flung his words at him.

     -- Deshevaya veshch', ne imeyushchaya nikakoj ceny, -- napomnil ya emu ego slova.


     He laughed, and  it was the first time I had heard honest mirth  in his
voice.

     On rassmeyalsya, i ya vpervye uslyshal v ego golose iskrennee vesel'e.


     "Ah, I cannot get you to understand, cannot drive it  into  your  head,
what a thing this life  is. Of course life  is valueless,  except to itself.
And I can tell you that my life is pretty valuable  just now - to myself. It
is  beyond price, which you will acknowledge is a terrific  overrating,  but
which  I cannot  help,  for  it is the life  that is in  me  that  makes the
rating."

     -- |h, nikak ne zastavish' vas ponyat',  nikak  ne vtolkuesh' vam, chto eto
za shtuka  -- zhizn'! Konechno, ona  imeet  cenu tol'ko dlya sebya samoj.  I mogu
skazat'  vam, chto moya zhizn' sejchas  ves'ma cenna... dlya  menya. Ej pryamo  net
ceny, hotya vy  skazhete, chto ya ochen' ee  pereocenivayu. No chto  podelaesh', moya
zhizn' sama opredelyaet sebe cenu.


     He appeared waiting for  the  words with  which to  express the thought
that was in him, and finally went on.

     On pomolchal -- kazalos', on podyskivaet slova, chtoby vyskazat' kakuyu-to
mysl', -- potom zagovoril snova:


     "Do you know, I am filled with a  strange uplift; I feel as if all time
were  echoing  through  me, as though all  powers were mine.  I  know truth,
divine good from evil, right from wrong. My vision is clear and far. I could
almost believe in God. But," and his voice changed and the light went out of
his  face, - "what  is  this condition  in which I  find myself? this joy of
living? this exultation of life? this inspiration, I may well call it? It is
what comes  when  there  is nothing  wrong  with  one's digestion,  when his
stomach is in trim and  his appetite has an  edge, and all goes  well. It is
the bribe for living, the champagne  of the blood,  the effervescence of the
ferment - that makes some  men think holy thoughts, and other men to see God
or to create him when they cannot  see him.  That is all, the drunkenness of
life,  the stirring and crawling of the yeast, the babbling of the life that
is insane with  consciousness that it is alive. And - bah! To-morrow I shall
pay for  it as the drunkard pays. And I  shall  know that I must die, at sea
most likely, cease crawling of  myself to be all a-crawl with the corruption
of the sea; to be fed  upon, to be carrion, to yield up all the strength and
movement of my  muscles that it may become strength and movement in  fin and
scale and the guts of fishes. Bah! And bah! again. The champagne is  already
flat. The sparkle and bubble has gone out and it is a tasteless drink."

     --  Vidite li, ya  ispytyvayu sejchas udivitel'nyj podŽem duha. Slovno vse
vremena zvuchat  vo  mne i vse  sily prinadlezhat  mne.  Slovno mne  otkrylas'
istina, i ya mogu otlichit' dobro ot zla, pravdu ot lzhi i vzorom proniknut'  v
dal'.  YA pochti  gotov poverit' v boga. No,  -- golos  ego izmenilsya  i  lico
potemnelo,  --  pochemu ya v  takom sostoyanii?  Otkuda eta  radost' zhizni? |to
upoenie zhizn'yu? |tot -- nazovem ego tak -- podŽem? Vse eto byvaet prosto  ot
horoshego pishchevareniya, kogda u  cheloveka zheludok v poryadke, appetit ispravnyj
i ves'  organizm  horosho rabotaet. |to --  brozhenie  zakvaski,  shampanskoe v
krovi, eto obman, podachka, kotoruyu brosaet  nam zhizn', vnushaya odnim  vysokie
mysli, a drugih zastavlyaya videt' boga ili  sozdavat' ego, esli  oni ne mogut
ego  videt'. Vot i vse:  op'yanenie  zhizni,  burlenie zakvaski, bessmyslennaya
radost' zhizni, odurmanennoj soznaniem, chto ona brodit, chto ona zhiva. No uvy!
Zavtra  ya budu rasplachivat'sya  za eto,  zavtra  dlya menya,  kak dlya zapojnogo
p'yanicy, nastupit pohmel'e.  Zavtra ya budu pomnit', chto ya dolzhen  umeret' i,
veroyatnee  vsego,  umru v plavanii; chto  ya  perestanu brodit'  v samom sebe,
stanu  chast'yu brozheniya  morya; chto ya budu gnit'; chto  ya sdelayus' padal'yu; chto
sila moih  muskulov  perejdet  v  plavniki  i  cheshuyu  ryb.  Uvy!  SHampanskoe
vydohlos'. Vsya igra ushla iz nego, i ono poteryalo svoj vkus.


     He left  me as suddenly  as he had come, springing to the deck with the
weight and softness of a tiger. The Ghost  ploughed on her way. I noted  the
gurgling forefoot was  very like a snore, and as I listened to it the effect
of Wolf Larsen's swift  rush from sublime exultation to despair slowly  left
me. Then some deep-water sailor,  from the waist  of the ship, lifted a rich
tenor voice in the "Song of the Trade Wind":

     On  pokinul menya  tak zhe  vnezapno, kak i  poyavilsya, sprygnuv na palubu
myagko  i besshumno, slovno tigr.  "Prizrak" prodolzhal idti svoim putem.  Pena
burlila u forshtevnya,  no  mne chudilis'  teper'  zvuki, pohozhie na sdavlennyj
hrip. YA prislushivalsya  k nim, i malo-pomalu vpechatlenie, kotoroe proizvel na
menya  vnezapnyj perehod  Larsena  ot  ekstaza  k  otchayaniyu,  oslabelo. Vdrug
kakoj-to matros na palube zvuchnym tenorom zatyanul "Pesn' passata":


     "Oh, I am the wind the seamen love - I am steady, and strong, and true;
They follow my track by the clouds above, O'er the fathomless tropic blue.

     YA vetr, lyubeznyj moryakam, YA svezh, moguch. Oni sledyat po nebesam Moj  let
sred' tuch.


     Through daylight and dark I follow the bark I keep like a hound  on her
trail; I'm strongest at noon, yet under the moon, I stiffen the bunt  of her
sail."

     I ya begu za korablem Vernee psa. Vzduvayu noch'yu ya i dnem Vse parusa.


        CHAPTER VIII

        GLAVA VIII


     Sometimes I think  Wolf Larsen  mad, or half-mad at least,  what of his
strange moods  and vagaries. At  other times I take  him for  a great man, a
genius who has never arrived. And,  finally, I  am convinced that he is  the
perfect type  of the primitive man, born a thousand years or generations too
late and an anachronism in this culminating  century  of civilization. He is
certainly  an  individualist of the most pronounced type. Not only that, but
he is very lonely. There  is no congeniality between him and the rest of the
men aboard ship. His tremendous virility and mental strength wall him apart.
They  are  more  like children to him, even  the hunters, and as children he
treats them, descending perforce to their level and  pla