elo?


     He had lifted  his eyes to me at the commencement of  my outburst,  and
followed  me complacently until I had done and  stood  before him breathless
and dismayed. He waited a moment, as though seeking where to begin, and then
said:

     Kogda ya zagovoril, on podnyal na  menya glaza i spokojno zhdal  konca moej
vspyshki. Nakonec ya umolk, zapyhavshijsya i smushchennyj. Pomolchav minutu,  slovno
sobirayas' s myslyami, on skazal:


     "Hump, do you know  the parable of the sower who went forth to  sow? If
you  will remember, some of the seed fell upon stony places, where there was
not much earth, and forthwith they sprung up because they had no deepness of
earth. And when the sun was up they were scorched, and  because they  had no
root they withered away.  And some fell among thorns, and the  thorns sprung
up and choked them."

     -- Hemp, znaete li vy  pritchu o  seyatele, kotoryj vyshel na nivu? Nu-ka,
pripomnite: "Inoe upalo na mesta kamenistye, gde nemnogo bylo zemli, i skoro
vzoshlo,  potomu  chto zemlya  byla  negluboka.  Kogda  zhe vzoshlo  solnce,  ego
obozhglo, i, ne  imeya  kornya, ono zasohlo; inoe  upalo  v  ternie, i  vyroslo
ternie i zaglushilo ego".


     "Well?" I said.

     -- Nu, i chto zhe? -- skazal ya.


     "Well?"  he queried, half  petulantly. "It was not well. I  was one  of
those seeds."

     --  CHto zhe? -- nasmeshlivo peresprosil on. -- Da  nichego horoshego. YA byl
odnim iz etih semyan.


     He dropped his head to the scale and resumed the copying. I finished my
work and had opened the door to leave, when he spoke to me.

     On naklonilsya  nad  chertezhom i snova  prinyalsya  za  rabotu.  YA zakonchil
uborku i vzyalsya uzhe za ruchku dveri, no on vdrug okliknul menya:


     "Hump, if you will look on the west coast of the map of Norway you will
see an indentation called  Romsdal Fiord. I was born  within a hundred miles
of that stretch of water. But  I was not born  Norwegian. I  am  a  Dane. My
father  and mother were Danes, and how they ever came to that bleak bight of
land  on the west coast I do not know. I  never heard. Outside of that there
is nothing mysterious. They were  poor people  and unlettered. They  came of
generations of poor unlettered people - peasants of the  sea who sowed their
sons on  the  waves as has been their custom since time began.  There  is no
more to tell."

     --  Hemp,  esli vy posmotrite  na  kartu zapadnogo  berega Norvegii, vy
najdete  tam zaliv, nazyvaemyj Romsdal'-f'ord. YA rodilsya v sta milyah ottuda.
No ya ne norvezhec. YA datchanin. Moi  roditeli oba byli datchane, i ya do sih por
ne znayu, kak oni popali v eto  unyloe mesto na zapadnom beregu Norvegii. Oni
nikogda ne govorili ob  etom. Vo vsem  ostal'nom v  ih zhizni ne bylo nikakih
tajn. |to byli  bednye  negramotnye lyudi, i  ih otcy  i  dedy byli  takie zhe
prostye negramotnye lyudi, pahari morya, posylavshie svoih synovej iz pokoleniya
v pokolenie borozdit' volny morskie, kak povelos' s nezapamyatnyh vremen. Vot
i vse, bol'she mne nechego rasskazat'.


     "But there is," I objected. "It is still obscure to me."

     -- Net, ne vse, -- vozrazil ya. -- Vasha istoriya vse eshche temna dlya menya.


     "What can I tell you?" he demanded, with a recrudescence of fierceness.
"Of  the  meagreness of a child's life?  of fish diet and  coarse living? of
going out with the boats  from the time I  could  crawl? of my brothers, who
went away one by one to the deep-sea farming and never came back? of myself,
unable to  read  or  write,  cabin-boy  at the  mature  age  of  ten  on the
coastwise,  old-country  ships? of the  rough fare  and rougher usage, where
kicks  and  blows were  bed and breakfast and took the place of speech,  and
fear and  hatred and  pain were my only soul-experiences?  I do not  care to
remember.  A  madness comes up in  my  brain even now as I think of  it. But
there were coastwise skippers I would have returned and  killed when a man's
strength came  to me,  only the  lines  of my life were cast at the time  in
other places.  I did return, not long  ago, but  unfortunately  the skippers
were  dead, all but one, a mate in  the old days, a skipper  when I met him,
and when I left him a cripple who would never walk again."

     -- CHto zhe eshche ya mogu rasskazat'  vam? -- skazal on mrachno  i so zloboj.
-- O perenesennyh v detstve lisheniyah?  O  skudnoj zhizni, kogda nechego  est',
krome ryby?  O  tom, kak  ya, edva nauchivshis' polzat', vyhodil  s rybakami  v
more? O  moih  brat'yah, kotorye  odin za drugim uhodili v more i  bol'she  ne
vozvrashchalis'? O tom, kak ya, ne umeya ni chitat', ni pisat', desyatiletnim yungoyu
plaval  na  staryh kabotazhnyh  sudah?  O  gruboj  pishche  i eshche  bolee  grubom
obrashchenii, kogda  pinki  i poboi s utra i na son gryadushchij zamenyayut  slova, a
strah,  nenavist' i  bol'  --  edinstvennoe,  chto  pitaet dushu?  YA ne  lyublyu
vspominat' ob etom! |ti vospominaniya  i sejchas privodyat  menya v beshenstvo. YA
mog by  ubit'  koe-kogo iz etih kabotazhnyh shkiperov, kogda stal vzroslym, da
tol'ko sud'ba zakinula menya v drugie kraya. Ne tak davno ya pobyval tam, no, k
sozhaleniyu, vse shkipery poumirali, krome odnogo.  On byl  shturmanom,  kogda ya
byl yungoyu, i stal kapitanom k  tomu vremeni, kogda  my  vstretilis' vnov'. YA
ostavil ego kalekoj; on nikogda uzhe bol'she ne smozhet hodit'.


     "But you who read Spencer and  Darwin and have never seen the inside of
a school, how did you learn to read and write?" I queried.

     --  Vy ne poseshchali shkoly, a mezhdu tem prochli Spensera i Darvina. Kak zhe
vy nauchilis' chitat' i pisat'?


     "In  the English  merchant service. Cabin-boy at twelve,  ship's boy at
fourteen, ordinary seamen at sixteen, able seaman at seventeen, and  cock of
the fo'c'sle, infinite ambition  and infinite loneliness, receiving  neither
help  nor sympathy, I did  it  all  for myself  -  navigation,  mathematics,
science, literature,  and what not. And of what use has it  been? Master and
owner of a  ship at the top of my life, as you  say,  when I am beginning to
diminish and die. Paltry, isn't it? And when the sun was  up I was scorched,
and because I had no root I withered away."

     -- Na anglijskih torgovyh  sudah.  V dvenadcat' let ya byl kayut-yungoj, v
chetyrnadcat'  -- yungoj, v  shestnadcat'  -- matrosom, v semnadcat' -- starshim
matrosom  i pervym  zabiyakoj na bake. Bespredel'nye nadezhdy  i bespredel'noe
odinochestvo,  nikakoj pomoshchi, nikakogo sochuvstviya, --  ya do vsego doshel sam:
sam uchilsya navigacii i matematike, estestvennym naukam i literature A k chemu
vse eto?  CHtoby v rascvete sil, kak vy izvolili vyrazit'sya, kogda  zhizn' moya
nachinaet  ponemnogu  klonit'sya   k  zakatu,  stat'  hozyainom  shhuny?  ZHalkoe
dostizhenie, ne  pravda li? I kogda solnce vstalo -- menya obozhglo, i ya zasoh,
tak kak ros bez kornej.


     "But history tells of slaves who rose to the purple," I chided.

     -- No istoriya znaet rabov, dostigshih porfiry, -- zametil ya.


     "And history tells of opportunities that came to the slaves who rose to
the purple," he answered grimly.  "No  man  makes opportunity. All the great
men ever did was to know  it when it came to them. The Corsican knew. I have
dreamed as greatly as the Corsican. I should have known the opportunity, but
it never came. The thorns sprung up and choked me. And, Hump, I can tell you
that you know more about me than any living man, except my own brother."

     --    Istoriya     otmechaet    takzhe    blagopriyatnye    obstoyatel'stva,
sposobstvovavshie takomu  vozvysheniyu, --  mrachno  vozrazil on.  --  Nikto  ne
sozdaet eti obstoyatel'stva sam Vse velikie  lyudi prosto umeli lovit' schast'e
za hvost Tak bylo i s Korsikancem I ya nosilsya s ne menee velikimi mechtami. I
ne upustil by blagopriyatnoj vozmozhnosti, no ona mne tak  i ne predstavilas'.
Ternie vyroslo i zadushilo menya. Mogu vam skazat', Hemp, chto ni odna dusha  na
svete, krome moego bratca, ne znaet obo mne togo, chto znaete teper' vy.


     "And what is he? And where is he?"

     -- A gde vash brat? CHto on delaet?


     "Master of the steamship Macedonia, seal-hunter," was the  answer.  "We
will  meet  him  most  probably  on the  Japan coast. Men call  him  'Death'
Larsen."

     -- On hozyain promyslovogo parohoda "Makedoniya"  i ohotitsya na  kotikov.
My, veroyatno, vstretimsya s nim u beregov YAponii. Ego nazyvayut Smert' Larsen.


     "Death Larsen!" I involuntarily cried. "Is he like you?"

     -- Smert' Larsen? -- nevol'no vyrvalos' u menya. -- On pohozh na vas?


     "Hardly. He is a lump of an animal without any head. He has all my - my
- "

     --  Ne  ochen'. On prosto tupaya skotina. V nem, kak i vo  mne,  mnogo...
mnogo...


     "Brutishness," I suggested.

     -- Zverskogo? -- podskazal ya.


     "Yes, - thank  you  for  the  word, -  all my  brutishness,  but he can
scarcely read or write."

     -- Vot imenno, blagodaryu vas. V nem ne men'she zverskogo, chem vo mne, no
on edva umeet chitat' i pisat'.


     "And he has never philosophized on life," I added.

     -- I nikogda ne filosofstvuet o zhizni? -- dobavil ya.


     "No," Wolf Larsen answered, with  an indescribable air of sadness. "And
he is all the happier  for leaving life alone. He is too busy living  it  to
think about it. My mistake was in ever opening the books."

     -- O net, -- otvetil Volk Larsen s gorech'yu. -- I v etom ego schast'e. On
slishkom  zanyat  zhizn'yu, chtoby dumat'  o nej. YA sdelal oshibku, kogda  vpervye
otkryl knigu.


        CHAPTER XI

        GLAVA XI


     The  Ghost has  attained the  southernmost  point of  the  arc  she  is
describing across the Pacific, and is already beginning to edge away to  the
west and  north toward some lone island, it is rumoured, where she will fill
her water-casks before proceeding to  the season's hunt  along the coast  of
Japan.  The  hunters have  experimented and practised with their  rifles and
shotguns till  they are  satisfied, and  the boat-pullers  and steerers have
made their spritsails, bound the oars and rowlocks in  leather and sennit so
that they will make no noise when creeping on the seals, and put their boats
in apple-pie order - to use Leach's homely phrase.

     "Prizrak" dostig samoj yuzhnoj  tochki toj dugi,  kotoruyu  on opisyvaet po
Tihomu  okeanu,  i  uzhe nachinaet zabirat'  k severo-zapadu, derzha  kurs, kak
govoryat, na  kakoj-to uedinennyj  ostrovok, gde my  dolzhny zapastis' presnoj
vodoj,  prezhde chem  napravit'sya bit'  kotikov  k  beregam  YAponii.  Ohotniki
uprazhnyayutsya v strel'be iz vintovok i drobovikov,  a  matrosy gotovyat  parusa
dlya shlyupok,  obivayut  vesla kozhej  i obmatyvayut  uklyuchiny  pletenkoj,  chtoby
besshumno podkradyvat'sya k kotikam, -- voobshche  "navodyat glyanec", po vyrazheniyu
Licha.


     His arm, by the way, has healed nicely, though the scar will remain all
his life. Thomas  Mugridge  lives in mortal  fear of him,  and is  afraid to
venture on deck after dark. There are two or three standing quarrels in  the
forecastle. Louis tells me that the gossip of the sailors finds its way aft,
and  that two  of the  telltales have been  badly beaten by  their mates. He
shakes his head dubiously over the outlook for the man Johnson, who is boat-
puller  in the  same boat  with him. Johnson has been guilty of speaking his
mind too freely,  and has collided two or three  times with Wolf Larsen over
the pronunciation of his name. Johansen  he  thrashed on the amidships  deck
the  other night, since  which time  the  mate  has called him by his proper
name. But  of  course it  is out  of the question that Johnson should thrash
Wolf Larsen.

     Ruka u Licha, kstati skazat', zazhivaet, no shram, kak vidno, ostanetsya na
vsyu  zhizn'. Tomas Magridzh  boitsya etogo parnya do smerti  i, kak stemneet, ne
reshaetsya nosa  vysunut' na palubu. Na bake  to i delo vspyhivayut ssory. Luis
govorit, chto kto-to naushnichaet kapitanu  na matrosov, i dvoim donoschikam uzhe
zdorovo nakostylyali  sheyu. Luis boitsya, chto Dzhonsonu,  grebcu iz odnoj s  nim
shlyupki, nesdobrovat'. Dzhonson govorit vse slishkom uzh napryamik, i  raza dva u
nego uzhe byli stolknoveniya s Volkom Larsenom iz-za togo, chto tot nepravil'no
proiznosit ego familiyu. A Iogansena on kak-to vecherom izryadno pokolotil, i s
teh  por  pomoshchnik ne koverkaet bol'she ego familii. No smeshno  dumat', chtoby
Dzhonson mog pokolotit' Volka Larsena.


     Louis  has also  given  me additional information  about Death  Larsen,
which tallies with  the captain's brief  description. We may expect  to meet
Death  Larsen on the Japan coast. "And  look  out for  squalls," is  Louis's
prophecy, "for they hate one another  like the wolf  whelps they are." Death
Larsen is  in  command  of  the only  sealing  steamer  in  the  fleet,  the
Macedonia, which carries  fourteen boats, whereas the rest  of the schooners
carry only six. There is wild  talk of  cannon aboard, and of strange  raids
and expeditions  she may  make, ranging from opium smuggling into the States
and arms smuggling into China, to blackbirding and open piracy. Yet I cannot
but believe  for I have never yet  caught  him in  a  lie, while  he  has  a
cyclopaedic knowledge of sealing and the men of the sealing fleets.

     Uslyshal  ya ot  Luisa koe-chto  i o  drugom Larsene,  prozvannom  Smert'.
Rasskaz  Luisa vpolne  sovpadaet s kratkoj harakteristikoj, dannoj kapitanom
svoemu  bratu. My,  veroyatno,  vstretimsya  s nim u  beregov  YAponii.  "ZHdite
shkvala,  --  predrekaet Luis, --  oni  nenavidyat  drug druga,  kak nastoyashchie
volki". Smert' Larsen komanduet "Makedoniej", edinstvennym parohodom vo vsej
promyslovoj flotilii; na  parohode chetyrnadcat'  shlyupok, togda kak na shhunah
ih  byvaet vsego shest'.  Pogovarivayut dazhe o  pushkah  na  bortu i o strannyh
ekspediciyah   etogo   sudna,  nachinaya  ot  kontrabandnogo   vvoza  opiuma  v
Soedinennye  SHtaty i oruzhiya v Kitaj  i  konchaya  torgovlej rabami i  otkrytym
piratstvom. YA ne  mogu ne verit' Luisu, on kak budto ne lyubit privirat', i k
tomu  zhe  etot malyj -- hodyachaya |nciklopediya  po chasti kotikovogo promysla i
vseh, kto etim zanimaetsya.


     As it is  forward and in the galley,  so it is in the steerage and aft,
on this veritable  hell-ship.  Men  fight  and struggle ferociously  for one
another's lives. The hunters are looking for a shooting scrape at any moment
between  Smoke and Henderson, whose old quarrel has not  healed,  while Wolf
Larsen says positively that he will kill the survivor of the affair, if such
affair comes  off. He  frankly states that the position he takes is based on
no moral grounds, that all the hunters could kill and eat one another so far
as he is concerned, were it not that he needs them alive for the hunting. If
they will only hold their hands until the season is over, he promises them a
royal carnival, when all  grudges can  he settled and the survivors may toss
the non-survivors  overboard and arrange a story  as to how the  missing men
were  lost  at  sea.   I   think  even  the  hunters  are  appalled  at  his
cold-bloodedness.  Wicked men though  they be, they are certainly  very much
afraid of him.

     Takie zhe stychki, kak  v matrosskom kubrike i v kambuze, proishodyat  i v
kubrike ohotnikov etogo poistine  d'yavol'skogo korablya. Tam tozhe draki i vse
gotovy peregryzt' drug drugu  glotku. Ohotniki ezhemiminutno zhdut, chto Smok i
Genderson, kotorye do sih por ne uladili svoej staroj ssory, scepyatsya snova,
a Volk  Larsen zayavil, chto ub'et togo, kto vyjdet zhivym iz etoj  shvatki. On
ne  skryvaet,  chto  im  rukovodyat  otnyud'  ne  moral'nye  soobrazheniya.   Emu
sovershenno  naplevat', hot' by vse ohotniki perestrelyali drug druga, no  oni
nuzhny  emu  dlya  dela,  i  poetomu  on  obeshchaet im carskuyu potehu, esli  oni
vozderzhatsya ot drak  do konca promysla:  oni smogut  togda  svesti  vse svoi
schety, vybrosit'  trupy  za  bort i potom pridumat' dlya  etogo  kakie ugodno
iz®yasneniya.  Mne  kazhetsya,  chto  dazhe  ohotniki  izumleny  ego hladnokrovnoj
zhestokost'yu. Nesmotrya na vsyu svoyu svirepost', oni vse-taki boyatsya ego.


     Thomas Mugridge is cur-like  in his subjection to me, while I  go about
in secret dread of him. His is the courage of fear, - a strange thing I know
well of  myself, - and at any moment it may master the fear and impel him to
the  taking of  my life. My knee is  much better,  though it often aches for
long periods,  and the stiffness  is  gradually leaving  the  arm which Wolf
Larsen squeezed. Otherwise I am  in splendid  condition,  feel that I  am in
splendid condition. My muscles are growing harder and increasing in size. My
hands, however, are a spectacle for grief. They have a parboiled appearance,
are afflicted with hang-nails,  while the nails are broken and  discoloured,
and  the edges of the  quick seem to be assuming  a fungoid sort  of growth.
Also, I am suffering from  boils, due  to the diet,  most  likely, for I was
never afflicted in this manner before.

     Tomas Magridzh presmykaetsya peredo mnoj, kak  sobachonka, a ya,  v glubine
dushi, pobaivayus'  ego. Emu svojstvenno muzhestvo straha --  kak eto byvaet, ya
horosho  znayu po  sebe, --  i  v lyubuyu minutu ono mozhet vzyat'  v nem  verh  i
zastavit'  ego  pokusit'sya  na  moyu zhizn'.  Sostoyanie  moego  kolena zametno
uluchshilos', hotya vremenami noga sil'no noet. Onemenie v ruke, kotoruyu sdavil
mne  Volk  Larsen,  ponemnogu  prohodit tozhe.  Voobshche  zhe  ya okrep.  Muskuly
uvelichilis' i  stali tverzhe. Vot  tol'ko ruki yavlyayut samoe zhalkoe zrelishche. U
nih  takoj vid, slovno ih oshparili kipyatkom, a nogti vse polomany i cherny ot
gryazi,  na  pal'cah -- zausenicy, na ladonyah  --  mozoli. Krome togo, u menya
poyavilis' furunkuly,  chto ya pripisyvayu korabel'noj  pishche,  tak  kak  nikogda
ran'she etim ne stradal.


     I was amused, a couple  of evenings back, by seeing Wolf Larsen reading
the Bible, a copy of which, after the futile search for one at the beginning
of the  voyage, had been found in the dead mate's sea-chest. I wondered what
Wolf Larsen could get from  it, and he read aloud to me from Ecclesiastes. I
could imagine he was speaking the thoughts of his own mind as he read to me,
and  his voice, reverberating deeply and mournfully  in the  confined cabin,
charmed  and held me. He may  be  uneducated, but he  certainly knows how to
express the significance of the written word. I can hear him now, as I shall
always hear him, the primal melancholy vibrant in his voice as he read:

     Na  dnyah  Volk Larsen  pozabavil menya: ya zastal ego vecherom  za chteniem
biblii, kotoraya  posle  besplodnyh  poiskov,  uzhe  opisannyh mnoyu  v  nachale
plavaniya, otyskalas' v  sunduke pokojnogo pomoshchnika.  YA nedoumeval, chto Volk
Larsen mozhet v nej dlya sebya najti, i on prochel mne vsluh iz |kkleziasta. Pri
etom  mne  kazalos', chto on ne  chitaet, a vyskazyvaet sobstvennye  mysli,  i
golos ego, gulko i mrachno razdavavshijsya v kayute, zacharovyval menya i derzhal v
ocepenenii.  Hot' on  i neobrazovan, a chitaet horosho. YA kak sejchas slyshu ego
melanholicheskij golos:


     "I gathered me also silver and gold, and the peculiar treasure of kings
and of  the  provinces; I gat  me  men singers  and  women  singers, and the
delights of the sons of men, as musical instruments, and that of all sorts.

     "Sobral  sebe serebra i  zolota i  dragocennostej  ot carej i oblastej;
zavel u sebya  pevcov  i pevic  i  uslazhdeniya  synov chelovecheskih  --  raznye
muzykal'nye orudiya.


     "So I was great,  and  increased more  than all that were before me  in
Jerusalem; also my wisdom returned with me.

     I  sdelalsya  ya velikim i  bogatym  bol'she  vseh, byvshih  prezhde menya  v
Ierusalime, i mudrost' moya prebyla so mnoyu...


     "Then  I  looked on  all the works that my hands had wrought and on the
labour that I had laboured to do; and behold, all was vanity and vexation of
spirit, and there was no profit under the sun.

     I  oglyanulsya ya na  vse dela moi,  kotorye  sdelali ruki moi, i na trud,
kotorym trudilsya ya, delaya ih: i vot, vse -- sueta  i tomlenie duha, i net ot
nih pol'zy pod solncem!..


     "All things come alike to all; there  is one event to the righteous and
to the wicked; to the good and to the clean, and to the unclean; to him that
sacrificeth,  and to him  that  sacrificeth not; as  is  the good, so is the
sinner; and he that sweareth, as he that feareth an oath.

     Vsemu i vsem -- odno: odna  uchast' pravedniku i nechestivomu, dobromu  i
zlomu,  chistomu i nechistomu, prinosyashchemu zhertvu i ne prinosyashchemu zhertvy; kak
dobrodetel'nomu, tak i greshniku; kak klyanushchemusya, tak i boyashchemusya klyatvy.


     "This is  an evil  among  all things that are done under  the sun, that
there is one event unto all; yea, also  the heart of the sons of men is full
of evil, and madness is in their heart while they live, and  after that they
go to the dead.

     |to-to i hudo vo vsem,  chto delaetsya pod solncem, chto odna uchast' vsem,
i serdce  synov chelovecheskih ispolneno zla, i  bezumie v serdce ih,  v zhizni
ih; a posle togo oni othodyat k umershim.


     "For to him that  is joined  to all  the  living there  is  hope; for a
living dog is better than a dead lion.

     Kto nahoditsya mezhdu zhivymi, tomu est' eshche nadezhda, tak kak i psu zhivomu
luchshe, nezheli mertvomu l'vu.


     "For  the living know  that  they  shall  die;  but  the dead know  not
anything, neither  have  they any more a reward; for the memory  of them  is
forgotten.

     ZHivye  znayut, chto  umrut, a mertvye  nichego  ne  znayut,  i  uzhe  net im
vozdayaniya, potomu chto i pamyat' o nih predana zabveniyu.


     "Also  their love, and their hatred,  and  their envy, is now perished;
neither have they any more a portion for ever in anything that is done under
the sun."

     I lyubov' ih, i nenavist' ih, i revnost' ih uzhe  ischezla, i net im bolee
doli voveki ni v chem, chto delaetsya pod solncem".


     "There you have it,  Hump," he said, closing  the book  upon his finger
and looking  up at me. "The  Preacher who  was king over Israel in Jerusalem
thought as I think. You call me a  pessimist. Is  not this pessimism of  the
blackest? - 'All  is vanity and vexation  of  spirit,'  'There is  no profit
under the sun,' 'There is one event unto all,' to the fool and the wise, the
clean and the  unclean, the sinner and  the saint, and that  event is death,
and an evil thing, he says. For the Preacher loved life, and did not want to
die, saying, 'For a living dog is better than a dead lion.' He preferred the
vanity and vexation to the silence and unmovableness of the grave. And so I.
To  crawl is  piggish;  but to not crawl,  to  be  as the clod and rock,  is
loathsome  to contemplate. It is loathsome to the  life  that  is in me, the
very  essence  of  which  is  movement,  the  power  of  movement,  and  the
consciousness of the power of  movement. Life itself  is unsatisfaction, but
to look ahead to death is greater unsatisfaction."

     -- Tak-to,  Hemp,  --  skazal  on, zalozhiv pal'cem knigu  i vzglyanuv na
menya. -- Mudrec, kotoryj caril nad narodom  Izrailya v Ierusalime, myslil tak
zhe,  kak  ya.  Vy  nazyvaete  menya  pessimistom.  Razve  eto ne samyj  chernyj
pessimizm? "Vse -- sueta  i tomlenie duha, i  net ot nih pol'zy pod solncem!
", "Vsemu i vsem -- odno" -- glupomu i umnomu, chistomu i nechistomu, greshniku
i svyatomu. |ta uchast' -- smert', i ona zlo, po ego slovam. |tot mudrec lyubil
zhizn' i, vidno,  ne hotel umirat', esli  govoril: "...  tak kak i psu zhivomu
luchshe,  nezheli  mertvomu  l'vu".   On  predpochital  suetu  suet   tishine   i
nepodvizhnosti mogily. Tak zhe  i ya. Polzat'  po  zemle -- eto svinstvo. No ne
polzat', byt'  nepodvizhnym,  kak  prah  ili  kamen',  -- ob  etom  gnusno  i
podumat'.  |to  protivorechit  zhizni  vo  mne,  sama  sushchnost'  kotoroj  est'
dvizhenie,   sila    dvizheniya,   soznanie   sily   dvizheniya.   ZHizn'    polna
neudovletvorennosti,  no  eshche  men'she  mozhet  udovletvorit'   nas   mysl'  o
predstoyashchej smerti.


     "You  are  worse off than  Omar,"  I  said. "He,  at  least,  after the
customary agonizing  of youth,  found content and made of his materialism  a
joyous thing."

     -- Vam eshche huzhe, chem Omaru  Hajamu, -- zametil ya. -- On po krajnej mere
posle  obychnyh somnenij  yunosti  nashel kakoe-to udovletvorenie i sdelal svoj
Materializm istochnikom radosti.


     "Who was Omar?" Wolf Larsen asked, and I did no more work that day, nor
the next, nor the next.

     --  Kto eto -- Omar Hajam? -- sprosil Volk Larsen, i ni v etot den', ni
v sleduyushchie ya uzhe ne rabotal.


     In his random  reading he had never chanced  upon the Rubeiyet,  and it
was  to  him like a great  find  of treasure.  Much I  remembered,  possibly
two-thirds of  the  quatrains,  and  I  managed  to piece out the  remainder
without difficulty. We talked for hours over single stanzas, and I found him
reading  into them a wail of  regret  and a rebellion which, for the life of
me, I  could  not discover myself. Possibly I recited  with a certain joyous
lilt which was my own, for - his memory was good, and at a second rendering,
very often the first, he made a quatrain his own - he recited the same lines
and invested them  with an unrest and passionate revolt that was  well- nigh
convincing.

     V  svoem besporyadochnom  chtenii  Lаrsenu  ne  dovelos'  napast' na
"Rubajat", i teper' eto bylo  dlya nego dragocennoj  nahodkoj. Bol'shuyu  chast'
stihov ya znal na pamyat' i bez truda pripomnil ostal'nye. CHasami obsuzhdali my
otdel'nye  chetverostishiya,  i  on  usmatrival  v nih  proyavleniya  skorbnogo i
myatezhnogo duha,  u kotoryj sam ya sovershenno ne  mog ulovit'. Vozmozhno, chto ya
vnosil v  moyu deklamaciyu nesvojstvennuyu  etim stiham zhizneradostnost', a on,
obladaya prekrasnoj pamyat'yu i  zapomniv mnogie strofy pri  pervom zhe  chtenii,
vkladyval v nih strastnost' i trevogu, ubezhdavshie slushatelya.


     I was  interested as to which  quatrain he would like best, and was not
surprised  when he  hit upon the one born of  an instant's irritability, and
quite  at variance with the Persian's complacent philosophy and  genial code
of life:

     Menya interesovalo,  kakoe chetverostishie ponravitsya emu bol'she drugih, i
ya ne  byl udivlen,  kogda on  ostanovil svoj  vybor na  tom,  gde otrazilos'
sluchajnoe razdrazhenie poeta,  shedshee vrazrez  s ego  spokojnoj  filosofiej i
blagodushnym vzglyadom na zhizn':


     "What,  without  asking, hither hurried  WHENCE? And,  without  asking,
WHITHER hurried hence! Oh, many a Cup of this forbidden Wine  Must drown the
memory of that insolence!"

     Vletel vopros: "Zachem na svete ty?" Za nim drugoj: "K chemu tvoi mechty?"
O, dajte mne zapretnogo vina -- Zabyt' nazojlivost' ih suety!


     "Great!"  Wolf Larsen cried. "Great! That's the keynote.  Insolence! He
could not have used a better word."

     -- Zamechatel'no!  --  voskliknul  Volk  Larsen.  -- Zamechatel'no!  |tim
skazano vse. Nazojlivost'On ne mog upotrebit' luchshego slova.


     In  vain  I objected  and denied. He  deluged me,  overwhelmed  me with
argument.

     Naprasno ya otrical i protestoval. On podavil menya svoimi argumentami.


     "It's not the nature of life to be otherwise.  Life, when it knows that
it must cease living, will always rebel. It cannot help itself. The Preacher
found life and the works of life  all a  vanity and vexation, an evil thing;
but  death, the ceasing to be  able to be vain and vexed, he found an eviler
thing.  Through  chapter after chapter he is worried by  the one event  that
cometh to  all  alike. So Omar, so I,  so you,  even you, for  you  rebelled
against dying when  Cooky sharpened a knife for you. You were afraid to die;
the life  that was in you, that composes you, that  is greater than you, did
not want to die. You have talked of the instinct of  immortality. I talk  of
the instinct of life, which is to live, and which, when death looms near and
large, masters  the instinct, so  called, of  immortality. It mastered it in
you (you cannot deny it), because a crazy Cockney cook sharpened a knife.

     --  ZHizn', po svoej prirode, ne mozhet byt' inoj.  ZHizn',  predvidya svoj
konec, vsegda vosstaet. Ona ne mozhet  inache.  Biblejskij mudrec  nashel,  chto
zhizn' i dela zhitejskie  -- sueta  suet, sploshnoe zlo. No smert', prekrashchenie
suety,  on nahodil eshche bol'shim zlom. Ot stiha k stihu on skorbit, oplakivaet
uchast', kotoraya odinakovo ozhidaet vseh. Tak zhe smotrit na eto i Omar  Hajam,
i ya, i vy, dazhe  vy -- ved' vozmutilis' zhe vy protiv smerti, kogda kok nachal
tochit'  na vas nozh. Vy boyalis' umeret'. ZHizn' vnutri vas, kotoraya sostavlyaet
vas i kotoraya bol'she vas, ne  zhelala  umirat'. Vy tolkovali mne ob instinkte
bessmertiya. A ya  govoryu  ob instinkte zhizni, kotoraya hochet zhit', i, kogda ej
grozit  smert',  instinkt  zhizni pobezhdaet to,  chto vy  nazyvaete instinktom
bessmertiya. On pobedil i  v vas -- vy ne stanete etogo otricat', -- pobedil,
kogda kakoj-to sumasshedshij kok stal tochit' na vas nozh.


     "You are  afraid of him now. You are afraid of  me. You cannot deny it.
If I should catch you by  the throat, thus," - his  hand was about my throat
and my breath was shut off, - "and began to press the life out of you  thus,
and thus, your instinct of immortality will go glimmering, and your instinct
of life, which is longing  for life, will flutter up, and  you will struggle
to save yourself. Eh? I see the fear of death in your eyes. You beat the air
with your  arms. You exert all your  puny strength to struggle to live. Your
hand  is  clutching  my arm, lightly it feels as a butterfly resting  there.
Your chest is heaving, your  tongue protruding, your skin turning dark, your
eyes  swimming.  'To live!  To live! To live!'  you are crying; and you  are
crying to live here and now, not hereafter. You doubt  your immortality, eh?
Ha! ha! You are not sure  of it. You won't chance it. This life only you are
certain is real. Ah, it  is  growing dark  and darker. It is the darkness of
death, the ceasing to be, the ceasing to  feel, the ceasing to move, that is
gathering about  you, descending upon you, rising around you. Your eyes  are
becoming set. They are  glazing. My voice sounds faint  and far.  You cannot
see my face. And  still  you  struggle in my  grip. You kick with your legs.
Your  body draws  itself up in  knots  like a snake's. Your chest heaves and
strains. To live! To live! To live - "

     Vy  i teper' boites' koka. I etogo vy tozhe  ne stanete otricat'. Esli ya
shvachu vas za  gorlo,  vot tak, -- ruka  ego vnezapno  szhala  mne  gorlo,  i
dyhanie moe prervalos', -- i nachnu vyzhimat'  iz vas zhizn', vot tak, vot tak!
--  to  vash instinkt bessmertiya  s®ezhitsya, a instinkt  zhizni vspyhnet  i  vy
budete borot'sya, chtoby spastis'. Nu chtoYA chitayu strah smerti v  vashih glazah.
Vy b'ete rukami po vozduhu.  V bor'be za zhizn' vy napryagaete vse vashi zhalkie
silenki. Vy vcepilis' v moyu ruku, a dlya menya eto to zhe samoe, kak esli by na
nee sela  babochka. Vasha grud' sudorozhno vzdymaetsya,  yazyk vysunulsya  naruzhu,
lico pobagrovelo,  glaza mutneyut...  "ZHit'!  ZHit'ZHit'!" --  vopite vy.  I vy
hotite zhit' zdes' i sejchas" a ne potom. Teper' vy  uzhe somnevaetes'  v svoem
bessmertii? Vot kak! Vy uzhe ne uvereny v nem. Vy ne hotite riskovat'. Tol'ko
eta  zhizn',  v kotoroj  vy  uvereny, real'na. A v glazah u vas vse temneet i
temneet. |to mrak smerti, prekrashchenie bytiya, oshchushchenij, dyhaniya. On sgushchaetsya
vokrug,   nadvigaetsya   na   vas,   stenoj  vyrastaet  krugom.   Vashi  glaza
ostanovilis',  oni  ostekleneli.  Moj golos  donositsya  k  vam  slabo, budto
izdaleka. Vy ne vidite  moego lica. I vse-taki vy barahtaetes' v  moej ruke.
Vy  brykaetes'.  Izvivaetes' uzhom.  Vasha grud'  sodrogaetsya, vy zadyhaetes'.
ZHit'! ZHit'ZHit'!..


     I heard  no  more. Consciousness was blotted out by the darkness he had
so graphically described, and when I came to myself I was lying on the floor
and he  was  smoking a  cigar  and  regarding me thoughtfully with that  old
familiar light of curiosity in his eyes.

     Bol'she ya nichego ne slyshal. Soznanie vytesnil mrak, kotoryj on  tak zhivo
opisal. Ochnulsya ya na polu. Larsen  kuril sigaru, zadumchivo glyadya  na menya, s
uzhe znakomym mne ogon'kom lyubopytstva v glazah.


     "Well, have I convinced you?" he demanded.  "Here take a drink of this.
I want to ask you some questions."

     --  Nu chto, ubedil ya vas? -- sprosil on.  --  Nate, vypejte vot  eto. YA
hochu sprosit' vas koe o chem.


     I rolled my head negatively on the floor.

     YA otricatel'no pomotal golovoj, ne podnimaya ee s pola.


     "Your arguments are too - er -- forcible," I managed  to articulate, at
cost of great pain to my aching throat.

     --  Vashi dovody slishkom... sil'ny, -- s trudom  probormotal  ya, tak kak
mne bylo bol'no govorit'.


     "You'll  be all right in half-an-hour," he assured me. "And I promise I
won't use any  more  physical demonstrations. Get up now.  You  can sit on a
chair."

     --  CHerez  polchasa  vse projdet,  --  uspokoil on  menya.  --  Obeshchayu  v
dal'nejshem vozderzhivat'sya ot  prakticheskih  eksperimentov. Teper' vstavajte.
Sadites' na stul.


     And, toy that  I was of  this monster,  the  discussion of Omar and the
Preacher was resumed. And half the night we sat up over it.

     I tak kak ya byl igrushkoj v rukah etogo chudovishcha, beseda ob Omare Hajame
i |kkleziaste vozobnovilas', i my zasidelis' do glubokoj nochi.


        CHAPTER XII

        GLAVA XII


     The last twenty-four hours have witnessed a carnival of brutality. From
cabin to forecastle it seems to have broken out like a contagion. I scarcely
know where  to begin.  Wolf Larsen was really the cause of it. The relations
among the men,  strained and made tense by feuds, quarrels and grudges, were
in  a state of unstable equilibrium, and  evil passions  flared up  in flame
like prairie- grass.

     Celye sutki na shhune carila kakaya-to vakhanaliya zverstva; ona vspyhnula
srazu ot kayut-kompanii  do baka,  slovno epidemiya. Ne znayu, s chego i nachat'.
Istinnym  vinovnikom  vsego  byl  Volk  Larsen.  Otnosheniya   mezhdu   lyud'mi,
napryazhennye,  nasyshchennye vrazhdoj,  peremezhavshiesya  neprestannymi stychkami  i
ssorami,  nahodilis'  v sostoyanii neustojchivogo  ravnovesiya, i  zlye strasti
zapolyhali plamenem, kak trava v preriyah.


     Thomas Mugridge is a sneak, a spy,  an informer. He has been attempting
to curry favour and reinstate himself in the good graces  of the  captain by
carrying tales of the men forward. He it was, I know, that  carried some  of
Johnson's hasty  talk to Wolf Larsen.  Johnson, it  seems, bought a  suit of
oilskins  from  the  slop-chest and  found them  to  be of  greatly inferior
quality.  Nor was he slow  in advertising the fact. The slop-chest is a sort
of miniature dry-goods store which is  carried by all sealing schooners  and
which is  stocked  with articles peculiar  to  the  needs  of  the  sailors.
Whatever a sailor purchases is  taken from  his  subsequent earnings on  the
sealing  grounds;  for,  as  it is  with  the  hunters  so  it  is  with the
boat-pullers and steerers - in the place  of wages they receive a  "lay,"  a
rate of so much per skin for every skin captured in their particular boat.

     Tomas Magridzh -- pronyra, shpion, donoschik. On pytalsya snova vteret'sya v
milost' k kapitanu,  naushnichaya  na  matrosov.  YA uveren,  chto eto on peredal
kapitanu  neostorozhnye  slova  Dzhonsona.  Tot   vzyal   v  korabel'noj  lavke
kleenchatuyu robu.  Roba  okazalas'  nikuda  ne godnoj, i Dzhonson  ne  skryval
svoego neudovol'stviya.  Korabel'nye  lavki  sushchestvuyut na  vseh  promyslovyh
shhunah  --  v  nih  matrosy mogut  kupit' to, chto im  neobhodimo v plavanii.
Stoimost' vzyatogo v lavke vychitaetsya vposledstvii iz zarabotka na promyslah,
tak  kak  grebcy i  rulevye, naravne s ohotnikami, poluchayut vmesto zhalovan'ya
izvestnuyu dolyu dohodov -- po chislu shkur, dobytyh toj ili inoj shlyupkoj.


     But of Johnson's grumbling at the  slop-chest I knew  nothing,  so that
what I witnessed came  with  a shock of sudden surprise. I had just finished
sweeping the  cabin, and had been inveigled by Wolf Larsen into a discussion
of  Hamlet, his favourite  Shakespearian character, when Johansen  descended
the companion stairs followed  by Johnson. The latter's cap came  off  after
the custom of the sea, and he stood respectfully in the centre of the cabin,
swaying heavily  and uneasily  to  the roll of the  schooner and facing  the
captain.

     YA ne  slyhal, kak Dzhonson vorchal  po povodu svoej neudachnoj  pokupki, i
vse posleduyushchee yavilos' dlya menya polnoj neozhidannost'yu. YA tol'ko chto  konchil
podmetat' pol v kayut-kompanii i byl  vovlechen Volkom  Larsenom v  razgovor o
Gamlete,  ego  lyubimom  shekspirovskom geroe, kak  vdrug  po  trapu spustilsya
Iogansen v soprovozhdenii Dzhonsona. Poslednij, po morskomu obychayu, snyal shapku
i skromno ostanovilsya posredi kayuty, pokachivayas' v takt kachke  sudna i glyadya
kapitanu v lico.


     "Shut the doors and draw the slide," Wolf Larsen said to me.

     -- Zakroj dver' na zadvizhku, -- skazal mne Volk Larsen.


     As  I obeyed I noticed an anxious light come into Johnson's eyes, but I
did not dream  of  its cause. I did not dream of what was  to occur until it
did occur, but he knew from  the very first what  was coming and awaited  it
bravely. And in his action  I found complete refutation of all Wolf Larsen's
materialism. The sailor Johnson was swayed by idea, by principle, and truth,
and sincerity. He was right, he  knew he was right, and  he was unafraid. He
would die  for the right if needs be, he  would be true to himself,  sincere
with his soul. And in this was portrayed the victory of the spirit over  the
flesh,  the  indomitability and  moral grandeur  of the  soul that knows  no
restriction and  rises  above time and space and matter  with a  surety  and
invincibleness born of nothing else than eternity and immortality.

     Ispolnyaya prikazanie, ya  zametil vyrazhenie trevogi v glazah Dzhonsona, no
ne ponyal, v  chem delo. Mne i v golovu  nichego ne prihodilo, poka vse  eto ne
razygralos'  u  menya  na  glazah. Dzhonson  zhe,  po-vidimomu,  znal, chto  emu
predstoit,  i  pokorno zhdal svoej  uchasti. V tom, kak  on derzhalsya,  ya  vizhu
polnoe  oproverzhenie  grubogo  materializma Volka Larsena. Matrosa  Dzhonsona
odushevlyala ideya,  princip, ubezhdennost' v  svoej  pravote. On  byl  prav, on
znal, chto prav, i ne boyalsya. On gotov byl umeret' za istinu,  no ostalsya  by
veren  sebe  i  ni na  minutu ne drognul.  Zdes' voplotilis' pobeda duha nad
plot'yu,  neustrashimost' i moral'noe velichie dushi, kotoraya ne znaet pregrad i
v  svoem  bessmertii   uverenno  i  nepobedimo   vozvyshaetsya  nad  vremenem,
prostranstvom i materiej.


     But  to return. I noticed the  anxious  light  in Johnson's  eyes,  but
mistook it for the  native shyness and embarrassment  of the man.  The mate,
Johansen, stood away several feet to the side  of him, and fully three yards
in  front of  him sat  Wolf Larsen  on one  of  the pivotal cabin chairs. An
appreciable pause fell after  I had closed the doors and  drawn the slide, a
pause that must have lasted fully a minute. It was broken by Wolf Larsen.

     Odnako  vernemsya k  rasskazu. YA zametil  trevogu v glazah  Dzhonsona, no
prinyal ee  za vrozhdennuyu robost' i smushchenie. Pomoshchnik Iogansen stoyal sboku v
neskol'kih shagah ot matrosa, a pryamo pered Dzhonsonom, yardah v treh, vossedal
na vrashchayushchemsya kayutnom stule sam Volk Larsen. Kogda ya zaper dver', nastupilo
molchanie, dlivsheesya celuyu minutu. Ego narushil Volk Larsen.


     "Yonson," he began.

     -- Ionson, -- nachal on.


     "My name is Johnson, sir," the sailor boldly corrected.

     -- Menya zovut Dzhonson, ser, -- smelo popravil matros.


     "Well, Johnson, then, damn you! Can you guess why I have sent for you?"

     --  Ladno. Pust'  budet Dzhonson,  chert  poberiTy  znaesh',  zachem ya tebya
pozval?


     "Yes, and no, sir," was the slow reply. "My work is done well. The mate
knows that, and you know it, sir. So there cannot be any complaint."

     -- I da i net, ser, --  posledoval netoroplivyj otvet. -- Svoyu rabotu ya
ispolnyayu  ispravno.  Pomoshchnik znaet eto,  da i vy znaete, ser.  Tut ne mozhet
byt' zhalob.


     "And  is  that all?" Wolf Larsen queried,  his voice soft, and low, and
purring.

     -- I eto vse? -- sprosil Volk Larsen negromko i vkradchivo.


     "I know  you have it in for me," Johnson continued with his unalterable
and ponderous slowness. "You do not like me. You - you - "

     -- YA znayu, chto vy  imeete chto-to protiv  menya, -- s toj zhe tyazhelovesnoj
medlitel'nost'yu prodolzhal Dzhonson. -- YA vam ne po dushe. Vy... vy...


     "Go on," Wolf Larsen prompted. "Don't be afraid of my feelings."

     -- Nu,  dal'she,  --  podstegnul  ego  Larsen. --  Ne  bojsya  zadet' moi
chuvstva.


     "I am not  afraid," the sailor retorted, a  slight angry  flush  rising
through his  sunburn. "If I speak  not fast, it is because I  have  not been
from  the old country  as long as you. You do not like  me because I  am too
much of a man; that is why, sir."

     -- YA  i ne boyus', -- vozrazil matros, i kraska dosady prostupila skvoz'
zagar  na ego shchekah. -- YA  pokinul rodinu  ne  tak davno, kak  vy,  potomu i
govoryu medlenno. A vam ya ne po dushe, potomu chto uvazhayu sebya. Vot v chem delo,
ser!


     "You are too much of  a  man