for ship discipline, if that is what you mean, and if you know what I mean," was Wolf Larsen's retort. -- Ty hochesh' skazat', chto slishkom uvazhaesh' sebya, chtoby uvazhat' sudovuyu disciplinu, tak, chto li? Tebe ponyatno, chto ya govoryu? "I know English, and I know what you mean, sir," Johnson answered, his flush deepening at the slur on his knowledge of the English language. -- YA ved' tozhe govoryu po-anglijski i ponimayu vashi slova, ser, -- otvetil Dzhonson, krasneya eshche gushche pri etom nameke na plohoe znanie im yazyka. "Johnson," Wolf Larsen said, with an air of dismissing all that had gone before as introductory to the main business in hand, "I understand you're not quite satisfied with those oilskins?" -- Dzhonson, -- prodolzhal Volk Larsen, schitaya, povidimomu, predislovie okonchennym i perehodya k delu, -- ya slyshal, ty vzyal robu i, kazhetsya, ne sovsem eyu dovolen? "No, I am not. They are no good, sir." -- Da, nedovolen. Plohaya roba, ser. "And you've been shooting off your mouth about them." -- I ty vse vremya krichish' ob etom? "I say what I think, sir," the sailor answered courageously, not failing at the same time in ship courtesy, which demanded that "sir" be appended to each speech he made. -- YA govoryu to, chto dumayu, ser, -- hrabro vozrazil matros, ne zabyvaya vmeste s tem pribavlyat', kak polozheno, "ser" posle kazhdoj frazy. It was at this moment that I chanced to glance at Johansen. His big fists were clenching and unclenching, and his face was positively fiendish, so malignantly did he look at Johnson. I noticed a black discoloration, still faintly visible, under Johansen's eye, a mark of the thrashing he had received a few nights before from the sailor. For the first time I began to divine that something terrible was about to be enacted, - what, I could not imagine. V etot mig ya sluchajno vzglyanul na Iogansena. On to szhimal, to razzhimal svoi ogromnye kulachishchi i s d'yavol'skoj zloboj posmatrival na Dzhonsona. YA zametil sinyak u nego pod glazom -- eto Dzhonson razukrasil ego na dnyah. I tol'ko tut predchuvstvie chego-to uzhasnogo zakralos' mne v dushu, no chto eto budet -- ya ne mog sebe voobrazit'. "Do you know what happens to men who say what you've said about my slop-chest and me?" Wolf Larsen was demanding. -- Ty znaesh', chto zhdet togo, kto govorit takie veshchi pro moyu lavku i pro menya? -- sprosil Volk Larsen. "I know, sir," was the answer. -- Znayu, ser, -- posledoval otvet. "What?" Wolf Larsen demanded, sharply and imperatively. -- A chto imenno? -- Vopros prozvuchal rezko i povelitel'no. "What you and the mate there are going to do to me, sir." -- Da to, chto vy i pomoshchnik sobiraetes' sdelat' so mnoj, ser. "Look at him, Hump," Wolf Larsen said to me, "look at this bit of animated dust, this aggregation of matter that moves and breathes and defies me and thoroughly believes itself to be compounded of something good; that is impressed with certain human fictions such as righteousness and honesty, and that will live up to them in spite of all personal discomforts and menaces. What do you think of him, Hump? What do you think of him?" -- Poglyadi na nego, Hemp, -- obratilsya Volk Larsen ko mne. -- Poglyadi na etu chasticu zhivogo praha, na eto skoplenie materii, kotoroe dvizhetsya, i dyshit, i osmelivaetsya oskorblyat' menya, i dazhe iskrenne uvereno, chto ono predstavlyaet soboj kakuyu-to cennost'. Rukovodstvuyas' lozhnymi ponyatiyami prava i chesti, ono gotovo otstaivat' ih, nevziraya na grozyashchie emu nepriyatnosti. CHto ty dumaesh' o nem, Hemp? CHto ty dumaesh' o nem? "I think that he is a better man than you are," I answered, impelled, somehow, with a desire to draw upon myself a portion of the wrath I felt was about to break upon his head. "His human fictions, as you choose to call them, make for nobility and manhood. You have no fictions, no dreams, no ideals. You are a pauper." -- YA dumayu, chto on luchshe vas, -- otvetil ya, ohvachennyj bessoznatel'nym zhelaniem hot' otchasti otvlech' na sebya gnev, gotovyj obrushit'sya na golovu Dzhonsona. -- Ego "lozhnye ponyatiya", kak vy ih nazyvaete, govoryat o ego blagorodstve i muzhestve. U vas zhe net ni morali, ni illyuzij, ni idealov. Vy nishchij! He nodded his head with a savage pleasantness. "Quite true, Hump, quite true. I have no fictions that make for nobility and manhood. A living dog is better than a dead lion, say I with the Preacher. My only doctrine is the doctrine of expediency, and it makes for surviving. This bit of the ferment we call 'Johnson,' when he is no longer a bit of the ferment, only dust and ashes, will have no more nobility than any dust and ashes, while I shall still be alive and roaring." On kivnul golovoj so svirepym udovol'stviem. -- Sovershenno verno, Hemp, sovershenno verno! U menya net illyuzij, svidetel'stvuyushchih o blagorodstve i muzhestve. ZHivaya sobaka luchshe mertvogo l'va, -- govoryu ya vmeste s |kkleziastom. Moya edinstvennaya doktrina -- eto celesoobraznost'. Ona pomogaet vyzhit'. Kogda eta chastica zhiznennoj zakvaski, kotoruyu my nazyvaem "Dzhonson", perestanet byt' chasticej zakvaski i obratitsya v prah i tlen, v nej budet ne bol'she blagorodstva, chem vo vsyakom prahe i tlene, a ya po-prezhnemu budu zhit' i bushevat'. "Do you know what I am going to do?" he questioned. On pomolchal i sprosil: -- Ty znaesh', chto ya sejchas sdelayu? I shook my head. YA pokachal golovoj. "Well, I am going to exercise my prerogative of roaring and show you how fares nobility. Watch me." -- YA ispol'zuyu svoyu vozmozhnost' bushevat' i pokazhu tebe, chto proishodit s blagorodstvom. Smotri! Three yards away from Johnson he was, and sitting down. Nine feet! And yet he left the chair in full leap, without first gaining a standing position. He left the chair, just as he sat in it, squarely, springing from the sitting posture like a wild animal, a tiger, and like a tiger covered the intervening space. It was an avalanche of fury that Johnson strove vainly to fend off. He threw one arm down to protect the stomach, the other arm up to protect the head; but Wolf Larsen's fist drove midway between, on the chest, with a crushing, resounding impact. Johnson's breath, suddenly expelled, shot from his mouth and as suddenly checked, with the forced, audible expiration of a man wielding an axe. He almost fell backward, and swayed from side to side in an effort to recover his balance. On nahodilsya v treh yarda s ot Dzhonsona, to est' v devyati futah! I on sidel; i odnim gigantskim pryzhkom; dazhe ne vstavaya na nogi, pokryl eto rasstoyanie. On prygnul, kak tigr, i Dzhonson, prikryvaya odnoj rukoj zhivot, a drugoj -- golovu, naprasno pytalsya zashchitit'sya ot obrushivshejsya na nego laviny yarosti. Volk Larsen svoj pervyj sokrushitel'nyj udar napravil pryamo v grud' matrosu. Dyhanie Dzhonsona vnezapno preseklos', i izo rta u nego vyrvalsya hriplyj zvuk, slovno on s siloj vzmahnul toporom. On zashatalsya i chut' ne oprokinulsya navznich'. I cannot give the further particulars of the horrible scene that followed. It was too revolting. It turns me sick even now when I think of it. Johnson fought bravely enough, but he was no match for Wolf Larsen, much less for Wolf Larsen and the mate. It was frightful. I had not imagined a human being could endure so much and still live and struggle on. And struggle on Johnson did. Of course there was no hope for him, not the slightest, and he knew it as well as I, but by the manhood that was in him he could not cease from fighting for that manhood. Ne mogu peredat' podrobnosti posledovavshej zatem gnusnoj sceny. |to bylo nechto chudovishchnoe; dazhe sejchas menya nachinaet mutit', stoit mne vspomnit' ob etom. Dzhonson muzhestvenno zashchishchalsya, no gde zhe emu bylo ustoyat' protiv Volka Larsena, a tem bolee protiv Volka Larsena i pomoshchnikaZrelishche etoj bor'by bylo uzhasno. YA ne predstavlyal sebe, chto chelovecheskoe sushchestvo mozhet stol'ko vyterpet' i vse zhe prodolzhat' zhit' i borot'sya. A Dzhonson borolsya. U nego ne bylo ni malejshej nadezhdy spravit'sya s nimi, i on znal eto ne huzhe menya, no on byl chelovek muzhestvennyj i ne mog sdat'sya bez bor'by. It was too much for me to witness. I felt that I should lose my mind, and I ran up the companion stairs to open the doors and escape on deck. But Wolf Larsen, leaving his victim for the moment, and with one of his tremendous springs, gained my side and flung me into the far corner of the cabin. YA ne v sostoyanii byl smotret' na eto. YA chuvstvoval, chto shozhu s uma, i brosilsya k trapu, chtoby ubezhat' na palubu. No Volk Larsen, ostaviv na mig svoyu zhertvu, odnim moguchim pryzhkom dognal menya i otshvyrnul v protivopolozhnyj ugol kayuty. "The phenomena of life, Hump," he girded at me. "Stay and watch it. You may gather data on the immortality of the soul. Besides, you know, we can't hurt Johnson's soul. It's only the fleeting form we may demolish." -- |to odno iz proyavlenij zhizni, -- s usmeshkoj brosil on mne. -- Ostavajsya i nablyudaj. Vot tebe sluchaj sobrat' dannye o bessmertii dushi. Krome togo, ty ved' znaesh', chto dushe Dzhonsona my ne mozhem prichinit' vreda. My mozhem razrushit' tol'ko ee brennuyu obolochku. It seemed centuries - possibly it was no more than ten minutes that the beating continued. Wolf Larsen and Johansen were all about the poor fellow. They struck him with their fists, kicked him with their heavy shoes, knocked him down, and dragged him to his feet to knock him down again. His eyes were blinded so that he could not set, and the blood running from ears and nose and mouth turned the cabin into a shambles. And when he could no longer rise they still continued to beat and kick him where he lay. Mne kazalos', chto proshli veka, hotya na samom dele izbienie prodolzhalos' ne dol'she desyati minut. Volk Larsen i pomoshchnik smertnym boem izbivali bednyagu. Oni molotili ego kulakami i pinali svoimi tyazhelymi bashmakami, sshibali s nog i podnimali, chtoby povalit' snova. Dzhonson uzhe nichego ne videl, krov' hlestala u nego iz ushej, iz nosa i izo rta, prevrashchaya kayutu v lavku myasnika. Kogda on uzhe ne mog podnyat'sya, oni prodolzhali izbivat' lezhachego. "Easy, Johansen; easy as she goes," Wolf Larsen finally said. -- Legche, Iogansen, malyj hod! -- proiznes nakonec Volk Larsen. But the beast in the mate was up and rampant, and Wolf Larsen was compelled to brush him away with a back-handed sweep of the arm, gentle enough, apparently, but which hurled Johansen back like a cork, driving his head against the wall with a crash. He fell to the floor, half stunned for the moment, breathing heavily and blinking his eyes in a stupid sort of way. No v pomoshchnike prosnulsya zver', i on ne hotel otpustit' svoej dobychi. Volku Larsenu prishlos' ottolknut' ego loktem. Ot etogo, kazalos' by, legkogo tolchka Iogansen otletel v storonu, kak probka, i golova ego s treskom udarilas' o pereborku. Oglushennyj, on svalilsya na pol, tyazhelo dysha i ochumelo morgaya glazami. "Jerk open the doors, - Hump," I was commanded. -- Otvori dver', Hemp! -- uslyshal ya prikaz. I obeyed, and the two brutes picked up the senseless man like a sack of rubbish and hove him clear up the companion stairs, through the narrow doorway, and out on deck. The blood from his nose gushed in a scarlet stream over the feet of the helmsman, who was none other than Louis, his boat-mate. But Louis took and gave a spoke and gazed imperturbably into the binnacle. YA povinovalsya, i eti zveri podnyali beschuvstvennoe telo i, slovno meshok s tryap'em, povolokli ego po uzkomu trapu na palubu. U shturvala stoyal Luis, tovarishch Dzhonsona po shlyupke, i krov' aloj struej bryznula emu na sapogi. No Luis nevozmutimo vertel shturval, ne otryvaya glaz ot kompasa. Not so was the conduct of George Leach, the erstwhile cabin-boy. Fore and aft there was nothing that could have surprised us more than his consequent behaviour. He it was that came up on the poop without orders and dragged Johnson forward, where he set about dressing his wounds as well as he could and making him comfortable. Johnson, as Johnson, was unrecognizable; and not only that, for his features, as human features at all, were unrecognizable, so discoloured and swollen had they become in the few minutes which had elapsed between the beginning of the beating and the dragging forward of the body. Sovsem inache povel sebya byvshij yunga Dzhordzh Lich. Vsya shhuna ot baka do yuta byla izumlena ego povedeniem. On samovol'no otpravilsya na kormu i peretashchil Dzhonsona na bak, gde prinyalsya, kak umel, perevyazyvat' ego rany i hlopotat' okolo nego. Dzhonson byl izurodovan do neuznavaemosti. Za neskol'ko minut lico ego tak posinelo i raspuhlo, chto poteryalo vsyakij chelovecheskij oblik. But of Leach's behaviour - By the time I had finished cleansing the cabin he had taken care of Johnson. I had come up on deck for a breath of fresh air and to try to get some repose for my overwrought nerves. Wolf Larsen was smoking a cigar and examining the patent log which the Ghost usually towed astern, but which had been hauled in for some purpose. Suddenly Leach's voice came to my ears. It was tense and hoarse with an overmastering rage. I turned and saw him standing just beneath the break of the poop on the port side of the galley. His face was convulsed and white, his eyes were flashing, his clenched fists raised overhead. No ya hotel rasskazat' o Liche K tomu vremeni, kak ya zakonchil uborku kayuty, Lich uzhe sdelal dlya Dzhonsona vse, chto mog. YA podnyalsya na palubu, chtoby podyshat' svezhim vozduhom i hot' nemnogo uspokoit'sya. Volk Larsen kuril sigaru i osmatrival mehanicheskij lag, kotoryj obychno byl opushchen za kormoj, a teper' dlya kakoj-to celi podnyat na bort. Vdrug do menya doletel golos Licha -- hriplyj, drozhashchij ot sderzhivaemoj yarosti. YA povernulsya i uvidel, chto Lich stoit na palube pered samym yutom. Lico ego bylo bledno i perekosheno ot beshenstva, glaza sverkali, on potryasal szhatymi kulakami nad golovoj. "May God damn your soul to hell, Wolf Larsen, only hell's too good for you, you coward, you murderer, you pig!" was his opening salutation. -- Pust' gospod' bog poshlet tvoyu dushu v ad, Volk LarsenDa i ad eshche slishkom horosh dlya tebya! Trus, vot ty kto! UbijcaSvin'ya! -- tak ponosil matros Lich kapitana. I was thunderstruck. I looked for his instant annihilation. But it was not Wolf Larsen's whim to annihilate him. He sauntered slowly forward to the break of the poop, and, leaning his elbow on the corner of the cabin, gazed down thoughtfully and curiously at the excited boy. YA stoyal, slovno gromom porazhennyj. YA dumal, chto Lich budet sejchas zhe ubit na meste. No u Volka Larsena v etu minutu ne bylo, kak vidno, ohoty ubivat' ego. On ne spesha podoshel k krayu yuta i, prislonivshis' k uglu rubki, s zadumchivym lyubopytstvom poglyadel na vzbeshennogo parnya. And the boy indicted Wolf Larsen as he had never been indicted before. The sailors assembled in a fearful group just outside the forecastle scuttle and watched and listened. The hunters piled pell-mell out of the steerage, but as Leach's tirade continued I saw that there was no levity in their faces. Even they were frightened, not at the boy's terrible words, but at his terrible audacity. It did not seem possible that any living creature could thus beard Wolf Larsen in his teeth. I know for myself that I was shocked into admiration of the boy, and I saw in him the splendid invincibleness of immortality rising above the flesh and the fears of the flesh, as in the prophets of old, to condemn unrighteousness. A tot brosal kapitanu v lico obvineniya, kakih nikto eshche ne reshalsya emu pred®yavit'. Matrosy boyazlivo zhalis' u baka, prislushivayas' k proishodyashchemu. Ohotniki, balagurya, vysypali na palubu; no ya zametil, chto veselost' sletela s ih lic, kogda oni uslyshali vykriki Licha. Dazhe oni byli ispugany neobychajnoj smelost'yu matrosa. Kazalos' neveroyatnym, chtoby ktonibud' mog brosit' Volku Larsenu podobnye oskorbleniya. Dolzhen skazat', chto ya sam byl udivlen i voshishchen postupkom Licha i videl v nem blestyashchee dokazatel'stvo nepobedimosti bessmertnogo duha, kotoryj vyshe ploti i ee straha smerti. |tot yunosha napomnil mne drevnih prorokov, oblichavshih lyudskie grehi. And such condemnation! He haled forth Wolf Larsen's soul naked to the scorn of men. He rained upon it curses from God and High Heaven, and withered it with a heat of invective that savoured of a mediaeval excommunication of the Catholic Church. He ran the gamut of denunciation, rising to heights of wrath that were sublime and almost Godlike, and from sheer exhaustion sinking to the vilest and most indecent abuse. I kak on oblichal Volka Larsena! On obnazhal ego dushu i vystavlyal napokaz vsyu ee nizost'. On prizyval na ego golovu proklyatiya boga i nebes i delal eto s zharom, napominavshim sceny otlucheniya ot cerkvi v srednie veka. V svoem gneve on to podnimalsya do groznyh vysot, to opuskalsya do gryaznoj ploshchadnoj brani. His rage was a madness. His lips were flecked with a soapy froth, and sometimes he choked and gurgled and became inarticulate. And through it all, calm and impassive, leaning on his elbow and gazing down, Wolf Larsen seemed lost in a great curiosity. This wild stirring of yeasty life, this terrific revolt and defiance of matter that moved, perplexed and interested him. YArost' Licha granichila s bezumiem. Na gubah ego vystupila pena, on zadyhalsya, v gorle u nego klokotalo, i vremenami rech' stanovilas' nechlenorazdel'noj. A Volk Larsen vse tak zhe holodno i spokojno slushal ego, prislonivshis' k uglu rubki, i, kazalos', byl ohvachen lyubopytstvom. |to dikoe proyavlenie zhiznennogo brozheniya, etot bujnyj myatezh i vyzov, broshennyj emu dvizhushchejsya materiej, porazili i zainteresovali ego. Each moment I looked, and everybody looked, for him to leap upon the boy and destroy him. But it was not his whim. His cigar went out, and he continued to gaze silently and curiously. Kazhdyj mig i ya i vse prisutstvuyushchie zhdali, chto on brositsya na molodogo matrosa i odnim udarom prikonchit ego. No po kakomu-to strannomu kaprizu on etogo ne delal. Ego sigara potuhla, a on vse smotrel vniz s bezmolvnym lyubopytstvom. Leach had worked himself into an ecstasy of impotent rage. Lich v svoem neistovstve doshel do predela. "Pig! Pig! Pig!" he was reiterating at the top of his lungs. "Why don't you come down and kill me, you murderer? You can do it! I ain't afraid! There's no one to stop you! Damn sight better dead and outa your reach than alive and in your clutches! Come on, you coward! Kill me! Kill me! Kill me!" -- Svin'ya! Svin'yaSvin'ya! -- vykrikival on, ne pomnya sebya. -- Pochemu zhe ty ne sojdesh' vniz i ne prikonchish' menya, ubijca? Ty legko mozhesh' sdelat' etoNikto ne ostanovit tebya! No ya tebya ne boyus'V tysyachu raz luchshe byt' mertvym i izbavit'sya ot tebya, chem ostat'sya zhivym v tvoih kogtyahIdi zhe, trusUbej menya! UbejUbej! It was at this stage that Thomas Mugridge's erratic soul brought him into the scene. He had been listening at the galley door, but he now came out, ostensibly to fling some scraps over the side, but obviously to see the killing he was certain would take place. He smirked greasily up into the face of Wolf Larsen, who seemed not to see him. But the Cockney was unabashed, though mad, stark mad. He turned to Leach, saying: Kak raz v etu minutu greshnaya dusha Tomasa Magridzha vytolknula ego na scenu. On vse vremya slushal, stoya u dveri kambuza, no teper' vysunulsya vpered, kak by dlya togo, chtoby vybrosit' za bort kakie-to ochistki, na samom zhe dele, chtoby ne prozevat' ubijstva, kotoroe, po ego mneniyu, neminuemo dolzhno bylo sejchas proizojti. On zaiskivayushche ulybnulsya Volku Larsenu, no tot, kazalos', dazhe ne zametil ego. Odnako eto ne smutilo koka. On tozhe byl kak by ne v sebe; povernuvshis' k Lichu, on kriknul: "Such langwidge! Shockin'!" -- CHto ty rugaesh'sya? Postydilsya by! Leach's rage was no longer impotent. Here at last was something ready to hand. And for the first time since the stabbing the Cockney had appeared outside the galley without his knife. The words had barely left his mouth when he was knocked down by Leach. Three times he struggled to his feet, striving to gain the galley, and each time was knocked down. Bessil'naya yarost' Licha nakonec nashla sebe vyhod. V pervyj raz posle ih stychki kok vyshel iz kambuza bez nozha. I ne uspeli slova sletet' s ego gub, kak kulak Licha sbil ego s nog. Trizhdy podnimalsya kok na nogi, starayas' udrat' v kambuz, i vsyakij raz molodoj matros odnim udarom valil ego na palubu. "Oh, Lord!" he cried. "'Elp! Elp! Tyke 'im aw'y, carn't yer? Tyke 'im aw'y!" -- Pomogite! -- zavopil Magridzh. -- PomogitePomogiteUberite ego! CHto vy glyadite, uberite ego! The hunters laughed from sheer relief. Tragedy had dwindled, the farce had begun. The sailors now crowded boldly aft, grinning and shuffling, to watch the pummelling of the hated Cockney. And even I felt a great joy surge up within me. I confess that I delighted in this beating Leach was giving to Thomas Mugridge, though it was as terrible, almost, as the one Mugridge had caused to be given to Johnson. But the expression of Wolf Larsen's face never changed. He did not change his position either, but continued to gaze down with a great curiosity. For all his pragmatic certitude, it seemed as if he watched the play and movement of life in the hope of discovering something more about it, of discerning in its maddest writhings a something which had hitherto escaped him, - the key to its mystery, as it were, which would make all clear and plain. Ohotniki tol'ko smeyalis' s chuvstvom oblegcheniya. Tragediya konchilas', nachinalsya fars. Matrosy osmeleli i, uhmylyayas', pododvinulis' blizhe, chtoby luchshe videt', kak budut bit' nenavistnogo koka. I dazhe ya vozlikoval v dushe. Priznayus', ya ispytyval udovletvorenie, glyadya, kak Lich izbivaet Magridzha, hotya eto bylo pochti stol' zhe uzhasnoe izbienie, kak to, kotoroe tol'ko chto, po vine samogo Magridzha, vypalo na dolyu Dzhonsona. No lico Volka Larsena ostavalos' nevozmutimym. On dazhe ne peremenil pozy i s tem zhe lyubopytstvom sledil za izbieniem. Kazalos', on, nesmotrya na svoj ot®yavlennyj pragmatizm, nablyudaet za igroj i dvizheniem zhizni v nadezhde uznat' o nej chto-nibud' novoe, razlichit' v ee bezumnyh korchah chto-to uskol'zavshee do sih por ot ego vnimaniya -- klyuch k tajne zhizni, kotoryj pomozhet emu etu tajnu raskryt'. But the beating! It was quite similar to the one I had witnessed in the cabin. The Cockney strove in vain to protect himself from the infuriated boy. And in vain he strove to gain the shelter of the cabin. He rolled toward it, grovelled toward it, fell toward it when he was knocked down. But blow followed blow with bewildering rapidity. He was knocked about like a shuttlecock, until, finally, like Johnson, he was beaten and kicked as he lay helpless on the deck. And no one interfered. Leach could have killed him, but, having evidently filled the measure of his vengeance, he drew away from his prostrate foe, who was whimpering and wailing in a puppyish sort of way, and walked forward. Nu i dostalos' zhe koku! Da, eto izbienie malo chem otlichalos' ot vidennogo mnoyu v kayute. Magridzh naprasno staralsya spastis' ot raz®yarennogo matrosa. Naprasno pytalsya on ukryt'sya v kayutu. Kogda Lich sbival ego s nog, Magridzh delal popytki dokatit'sya do nee, dobrat'sya do nee polzkom, staralsya padat' v storonu kayuty, no udar sledoval za udarom s nepostizhimoj bystrotoj. Lich shvyryal koka, kak myach, poka nakonec Magridzh ne rastyanulsya nedvizhimyj na palube. No i posle etogo on eshche prodolzhal poluchat' udary i pinki. Nikto ne zastupilsya za nego. Lich mog by ubit' koka, no, ochevidno, gnev ego issyak. On povernulsya i ushel, ostaviv svoego vraga rasprostertym na palube; kok lezhal i povizgival, kak shchenok. But these two affairs were only the opening events of the day's programme. In the afternoon Smoke and Henderson fell foul of each other, and a fusillade of shots came up from the steerage, followed by a stampede of the other four hunters for the deck. A column of thick, acrid smoke - the kind always made by black powder - was arising through the open companion-way, and down through it leaped Wolf Larsen. The sound of blows and scuffling came to our ears. Both men were wounded, and he was thrashing them both for having disobeyed his orders and crippled themselves in advance of the hunting season. In fact, they were badly wounded, and, having thrashed them, he proceeded to operate upon them in a rough surgical fashion and to dress their wounds. I served as assistant while he probed and cleansed the passages made by the bullets, and I saw the two men endure his crude surgery without anaesthetics and with no more to uphold them than a stiff tumbler of whisky. No eti dva proisshestviya posluzhili tol'ko prelyudiej k drugim sobytiyam togo zhe dnya. Pod vecher proizoshla stychka mezhdu Smokom i Gendersonom. V kubrike vnezapno razdalis' vystrely, i ostal'nye chetvero ohotnikov vyskochili na palubu. Stolb gustogo, edkogo dyma -- kakoj vsegda byvaet ot chernogo poroha -- podnyalsya iz otkrytogo lyuka. Volk Larsen brosilsya tuda i ischez v etom dymu. Do nas doleteli zvuki udarov. Smok i Genderson -- oba byli raneny, a kapitan vdobavok eshche izbil ih za to, chto oni oslushalis' ego prikaza i izuvechili drug druga pered nachalom ohoty. Rany okazalis' ser'eznymi, i, otkolotiv ohotnikov, Volk Larsen tut zhe prinyalsya lechit' ih, kak umel, i delat' perevyazki. YA pomogal emu, kogda on zondiroval i promyval rany, i oba molodca stoicheski perenosili etu grubuyu hirurgiyu bez vsyakogo narkoza, podkreplyaya svoi sily tol'ko dobrym stakanom viski. Then, in the first dog-watch, trouble came to a head in the forecastle. It took its rise out of the tittle-tattle and tale- bearing which had been the cause of Johnson's beating, and from the noise we heard, and from the sight of the bruised men next day, it was patent that half the forecastle had soundly drubbed the other half. Zatem vo vremya pervoj vechernej poluvahty podnyalas' draka na bake. Prichinoj ee posluzhili spletni i naushnichestvo, iz-za kotoryh byl izbit Dzhonson. SHum, donosivshijsya s baka, i sinyaki, razukrasivshie fizionomii matrosov, svidetel'stvovali o tom, chto odna polovina komandy izryadno otdelala druguyu. The second dog-watch and the day were wound up by a fight between Johansen and the lean, Yankee-looking hunter, Latimer. It was caused by remarks of Latimer's concerning the noises made by the mate in his sleep, and though Johansen was whipped, he kept the steerage awake for the rest of the night while he blissfully slumbered and fought the fight over and over again. Vtoraya vechernyaya poluvahta oznamenovalas' novoj drakoj -- na etot raz mezhdu Iogansenom i toshchim, pohozhim na yanki ohotnikom Letimerom. Povod k nej podalo zamechanie Letimera, chto pomoshchnik, deskat', hrapit i razgovarivaet vo sne. V rezul'tate poslednij poluchil izryadnuyu trepku, posle chego snova ne daval nikomu spat', bez konca perezhivaya -- vo sne vse podrobnosti draki. As for myself, I was oppressed with nightmare. The day had been like some horrible dream. Brutality had followed brutality, and flaming passions and cold-blooded cruelty had driven men to seek one another's lives, and to strive to hurt, and maim, and destroy. My nerves were shocked. My mind itself was shocked. All my days had been passed in comparative ignorance of the animality of man. In fact, I had known life only in its intellectual phases. Brutality I had experienced, but it was the brutality of the intellect - the cutting sarcasm of Charley Furuseth, the cruel epigrams and occasional harsh witticisms of the fellows at the Bibelot, and the nasty remarks of some of the professors during my undergraduate days. Menya tozhe vsyu noch' muchili koshmary. |tot den' byl pohozh na strashnyj son. Odna zverskaya scena smenyalas' drugoj, razbushevavshiesya strasti i hladnokrovnaya zhestokost' zastavlyali lyudej pokushat'sya na zhizn' svoih blizhnih, bit', kalechit', unichtozhat'. Nervy moi byli potryaseny. Um vozmushchalsya. Do etoj pory zhizn' moya protekala v otnositel'nom nevedenii zverskoj storony chelovecheskoj prirody. Ved' ya vsegda zhil chisto intellektual'noj zhizn'yu. YA stalkivalsya s zhestokost'yu, no tol'ko s zhestokost'yu duhovnoj -- s kolkim sarkazmom CHarli Feraseta, s bezzhalostnymi epigrammami i ostrotami priyatelej po klubu i yadovitymi zamechaniyami nekotoryh professorov v moi studencheskie gody. That was all. But that men should wreak their anger on others by the bruising of the flesh and the letting of blood was something strangely and fearfully new to me. Not for nothing had I been called "Sissy" Van Weyden, I thought, as I tossed restlessly on my bunk between one nightmare and another. And it seemed to me that my innocence of the realities of life had been complete indeed. I laughed bitterly to myself, and seemed to find in Wolf Larsen's forbidding philosophy a more adequate explanation of life than I found in my own. Vot i vse. No chtoby lyudi mogli vymeshchat' svoj gnev na blizhnih, prolivaya krov' i kalecha Drug druga, -- eto bylo dlya menya vnove i povergalo v uzhas. Ne naprasno nazyvali menya "nezhenka Van-Vejden", dumal ya i bespokojno vorochalsya na kojke, terzaemyj koshmarami. YA divilsya svoemu polnomu neznaniyu zhizni i gor'ko smeyalsya nad soboj; kazalos', ya uzhe gotov byl priznat', chto ottalkivayushchaya filosofiya Volka Larsena daet bolee pravil'noe ob®yasnenie zhizni, chem moya. And I was frightened when I became conscious of the trend of my thought. The continual brutality around me was degenerative in its effect. It bid fair to destroy for me all that was best and brightest in life. My reason dictated that the beating Thomas Mugridge had received was an ill thing, and yet for the life of me I could not prevent my soul joying in it. And even while I was oppressed by the enormity of my sin, - for sin it was, - I chuckled with an insane delight. I was no longer Humphrey Van Weyden. I was Hump, cabin-boy on the schooner Ghost. Wolf Larsen was my captain, Thomas Mugridge and the rest were my companions, and I was receiving repeated impresses from the die which had stamped them all. Takoe napravlenie myslej ispugalo menya. YA chuvstvoval, chto okruzhayushchee zverstvo okazyvaet na menya razvrashchayushchee vliyanie, omrachaya vse, chto est' horoshego i svetlogo na svete. YA otdaval sebe otchet v tom, chto izbienie Tomasa Magridzha -- skvernoe, zloe delo, i tem ne menee ne mog ne likovat' pri mysli ob etom proisshestvii. I, soznavaya, chto ya greshu, chto takie mysli chudovishchny, ya vse zhe zahlebyvalsya ot bessmyslennogo zloradstva. YA bol'she ne byl Hemfri VanVejdenom. YA byl Hempom, yungoj na shhune "Prizrak". Volk Larsen byl moim kapitanom, Tomas Magridzh i ostal'nye -- moimi tovarishchami, i pechat', kotoroj oni byli otmecheny, uzhe nachinala prostupat' i na moej shkure. CHAPTER XIII GLAVA XIII For three days I did my own work and Thomas Mugridge's too; and I flatter myself that I did his work well. I know that it won Wolf Larsen's approval, while the sailors beamed with satisfaction during the brief time my REGIME lasted. Tri dnya ya rabotal i za sebya i za Tomasa Magridzha i mogu s gordost'yu skazat', chto spravlyalsya s delami neploho. YA znayu, chto zasluzhil odobrenie Volka Larsena, da i matrosy byli dovol'ny mnoyu vo vremya moego kratkogo pravleniya v kambuze. "The first clean bite since I come aboard," Harrison said to me at the galley door, as he returned the dinner pots and pans from the forecastle. "Somehow Tommy's grub always tastes of grease, stale grease, and I reckon he ain't changed his shirt since he left 'Frisco." -- V pervyj raz em chistuyu pishchu, s teh por kak popal na bort, -- skazal mne Garrison, prosunuv v dver' kambuza obedennuyu posudu s baka. -- Stryapnya Tommi pochemu-to vsegda otdavala tuhlym zhirom, i sdaetsya mne, chto on ni razu ne smenil rubashki, kak otplyl iz Frisko. "I know he hasn't," I answered. -- Tak ono i est', -- podtverdil ya. "And I'll bet he sleeps in it," Harrison added. -- Nebos', i spit v nej? -- prodolzhal Garrison. "And you won't lose," I agreed. "The same shirt, and he hasn't had it off once in all this time." -- Bud' uveren, -- skazal ya. -- Na nem vse ta zhe rubashka, i on ee ni razu ne snimal. But three days was all Wolf Larsen allowed him in which to recover from the effects of the beating. On the fourth day, lame and sore, scarcely able to see, so closed were his eyes, he was haled from his bunk by the nape of the neck and set to his duty. He sniffled and wept, but Wolf Larsen was pitiless. No tol'ko tri dnya dal kapitan koku na popravku posle nanesennyh emu poboev. Na chetvertyj den' ego za shivorot stashchili s kojki, i on, hromaya i shatayas' ot slabosti, pristupil k ispolneniyu svoih obyazannostej. Glaza u nego tak otekli, chto on pochti nichego ne videl. On hnykal i vzdyhal, no Volk Larsen byl neumolim. "And see that you serve no more slops," was his parting injunction. "No more grease and dirt, mind, and a clean shirt occasionally, or you'll get a tow over the side. Understand?" -- Smotri, chtob ne bylo pomoev! -- naputstvoval on koka. -- I gryazi ya bol'she ne poterplyuIzvol' takzhe inogda menyat' rubashku, ne to ya tebya vykupayu. Ponyal? Thomas Mugridge crawled weakly across the galley floor, and a short lurch of the Ghost sent him staggering. In attempting to recover himself, he reached for the iron railing which surrounded the stove and kept the pots from sliding off; but he missed the railing, and his hand, with his weight behind it, landed squarely on the hot surface. There was a sizzle and odour of burning flesh, and a sharp cry of pain. Tomas Magridzh s trudom kovylyal po kambuzu, i pervyj zhe rezkij kren "Prizraka" chut' ne svalil ego s nog. Starayas' sohranit' ravnovesie, on hotel shvatit'sya za zheleznye prut'ya, predohranyayushchie kastryuli ot padeniya, no promahnulsya i opersya rukoj o raskalennuyu plitu. Razdalos' shipenie, potyanulo zapahom gorelogo myasa, i kok vzvyl ot boli. "Oh, Gawd, Gawd, wot 'ave I done?" he wailed; sitting down in the coal-box and nursing his new hurt by rocking back and forth. "W'y 'as all this come on me? It mykes me fair sick, it does, an' I try so 'ard to go through life 'armless an' 'urtin' nobody." -- Gospodi, gospodi, vot eshche beda-to! -- prichital on, usevshis' na ugol'nyj yashchik i razmahivaya obozhzhennoj rukoj. -- CHto zh eto za napast' takayaPryamo toshno stanovitsyaI za chto mne eto? Uzh ya li ne starayus' zhit' so vsemi v ladu! The tears were running down his puffed and discoloured cheeks, and his face was drawn with pain. A savage expression flitted across it. Slezy struilis' po ego opuhshim, pokrytym krovopodtekami shchekam, lico bylo perekosheno ot boli, no skvoz' bol' proglyadyvala zataennaya zloba. "Oh, 'ow I 'ate 'im! 'Ow I 'ate 'im!" he gritted out. -- Kak ya nenavizhu ego! Kak nenavizhu! -- probormotal on, skripnuv zubami. "Whom?" I asked; but the poor wretch was weeping again over his misfortunes. Less difficult it was to guess whom he hated than whom he did not hate. For I had come to see a malignant devil in him which impelled him to hate all the world. I sometimes thought that he hated even himself, so grotesquely had life dealt with him, and so monstrously. At such moments a great sympathy welled up within me, and I felt shame that I had ever joyed in his discomfiture or pain. Life had been unfair to him. It had played him a scurvy trick when it fashioned him into the thing he was, and it had played him scurvy tricks ever since. What chance had he to be anything else than he was? And as though answering my unspoken thought, he wailed: -- Kogo eto? -- sprosil ya, no bednyaga uzhe opyat' nachal oplakivat' svoi nevzgody. Vprochem, ugadat', kogo on nenavidit, bylo netrudno, -- trudnee bylo by predpolozhit', chto on kogo-nibud' lyubit. V etom cheloveke sidel kakoj-to bes, zastavlyavshij ego nenavidet' ves' mir. Mne kazalos' poroj, chto Magridzh nenavidit dazhe samogo sebya, -- tak nelepo i urodlivo slozhilas' ego zhizn'. V takie minuty vo mne probuzhdalos' goryachee sochuvstvie k nemu i stanovilos' stydno, chto ya mog radovat'sya ego stradaniyam i bedam. ZHizn' podlo oboshlas' s Tomasom Magridzhem. Ona sygrala s nim skvernuyu shtuku, vylepiv iz nego to, chem on byl, i ne perestavala izdevat'sya nad nim. Mog li on byt' inym? I, budto v otvet na moi nevyskazannye mysli, kok prohnykal: "I never 'ad no chance, not 'arf a chance! 'Oo was there to send me to school, or put tommy in my 'ungry belly, or wipe my bloody nose for me, w'en I was a kiddy? 'Oo ever did anything for me, heh? 'Oo, I s'y?" -- Mne vsegda, vsegda ne vezlo. Nekomu bylo poslat' menya v shkolu, nekomu bylo menya pokormit' ili vyteret' mne razbityj nos, kogda ya byl mal'chonkojRazve kto-nibud' zabotilsya obo mne? Kto, kogda, sprashivayu ya? "Never mind, Tommy," I said, placing a soothing hand on his shoulder. "Cheer up. It'll all come right in the end. You've long years before you, and you can make anything you please of yourself." -- Ne ogorchajsya, Tommi, -- skazal ya, uspokaivayushche kladya emu ruku na plecho. -- Ne unyvaj! Vse naladitsya. U tebya eshche mnogo vperedi, ty vsego mozhesh' dobit'sya. "It's a lie! a bloody lie!" he shouted in my face, flinging off the hand. "It's a lie, and you know it. I'm already myde, an' myde out of leavin's an' scraps. It's all right for you, 'Ump. You was born a gentleman. You never knew wot it was to go 'ungry, to cry yerself asleep with yer little belly gnawin' an' gnawin', like a rat inside yer. It carn't come right. If I was President of the United Stytes to-morrer, 'ow would it fill my belly for one time w'en I was a kiddy and it went empty? -- Vran'ePodloe vran'e! -- zaoral on mne v lico, stryahivaya moyu ruku. -- Vran'e, sam znaesh'. Menya ne peredelat'Menya uzhe sdelali -- iz vsyakih otbrosovTakie rassuzhdeniya horoshi dlya tebya, Hemp. Ty rodilsya dzhentl'menom. Ty nikogda ne znal, chto znachit hodit' golodnym i zasypat' v slezah ottogo, chto golod gryzet tvoe pustoe bryuho, tochno krysa. Net, moe delo propashchee. Da esli dazhe ya prosnus' zavtra prezidentom Soedinennyh SHtatov, razve ya ot®emsya za to vremya, kogda begal po ulicam golodnym shchenkom? Razve eto ispravish'? "'Ow could it, I s'y? I was born to sufferin' and sorrer. I've had more cruel sufferin' than any ten men, I 'ave. I've been in orspital arf my bleedin' life. I've 'ad the fever in Aspinwall, in 'Avana, in New Orleans. I near died of the scurvy and was rotten with it six months in Barbadoes. Smallpox in 'Onolulu, two broken legs in Shanghai, pnuemonia in Unalaska, three busted ribs an' my insides all twisted in 'Frisco. An' 'ere I am now. Look at me! Look at me! My ribs kicked loose from my back again. I'll be coughin' blood before eyght bells. 'Ow can it be myde up to me, I arsk? 'Oo's goin' to do it? Gawd? 'Ow Gawd must 'ave 'ated me w'en 'e signed me on for a voyage in this bloomin' world of 'is!" Ne v dobryj chas ya rodilsya, vot na moyu dolyu i vypalo stol'ko bed, chto hvatilo by na desyateryh. Polzhizni ya provalyalsya po bol'nicam. Hvoral lihoradkoj v Aspinvale, v Gavane, v N'yu-Orleane. Na Barbadose polgoda muchilsya ot cingi i chut' ne sdoh. V Gonolulu -- ospa. V SHanhae -- perelom obeih nog. V Unalashke -- vospalenie legkih. Tri slomannyh rebra vo Frisko. A teper'Vzglyani na menyaVzglyani! Ved' opyat' vse rebra perelomaliI posmotrish' -- budu harkat' krov'yu. Kto zhe mne vozmestit vse eto, sprashivayu ya? Kto? Bog, chto li? Vidno, on zdorovo nevzlyubil menya, kogda otpravil v plavanie po etomu pro