Old Izergil and other stories / Старуха Изергиль и другие рассказы. Книга для чтения на английском языке

“Have the money ready in the morning,” Chelkash said to him briefly. “I’m going to take a snooze now. Come along, Gavrilla. Are you hungry?”

“I’m sleepy,” said Gavrilla. Five minutes later he was snoring loudly while Chelkash sat beside him trying on somebody else’s boots, spitting off to one side and whistling a sad tune through his teeth. Presently he stretched out beside Gavrilla with his hands behind his head and lay there with his moustache twitching.

The barge rolled on the waves, a board creaked plaintively, the rain beat on the deck and the waves against the sides of the barge. It was all very mournful and reminded one of the cradle-song of a mother who has little hope of seeing her child happy.

Chelkash bared his teeth, raised his head, glanced about him, muttered something to himself and lay down again with his legs spread wide apart, making him look like a pair of giant scissors.

III

He was the first to wake up. He glanced anxiously about him, was instantly reassured, and looked down at Gavrilla, who was snoring happily, a smile spread all over his wholesome, sunburnt, boyish face. Chelkash gave a sigh and climbed up a narrow rope-ladder. A patch of lead-coloured sky peered down the hatchway. It was light, but the day was dull and dreary, as is often so in autumn.

Chelkash came back in a couple of hours. His face was red and his whiskers had been given a rakish twist. He was wearing a sturdy pair of high-boots, a leather hunting jacket and breeches as a hunter wears. The outfit was not new, but in good condition and very becoming to him, since it filled out his figure, rounded off the edges and gave him a certain military air.

“Get up, puppy,” said he, giving Gavrilla a little kick.

Gavrilla jumped up only half-awake and gazed at Chelkash with frightened eyes, not recognizing him. Chelkash burst out laughing.

“Don’t you look grand!” said Gavrilla with a broad grin at last. “Quite the gentleman.”

“That don’t take us long. But you’re a lily-livered fellow if there ever was one. How many times were you about to pass out last night?”

“You can’t blame me; I’d never been on a job like that before. I might have lost my soul.”

“Would you do it again, eh?”

“Again? Only if – how shall I put it? What would I get for it?”

“If you got, let’s say, two smackers?”

“You mean two hundred roubles? Not bad. I might.”

“And what about losing your soul?”

“Maybe I wouldn’t lose it after all,” grinned Gavril-la.

“You wouldn’t lose it, and you’d be made for the rest of your life.”

Chelkash laughed gaily, “Well, enough of joking; let’s go ashore.”

And so they found themselves in the boat again, Chelkash steering, Gavrilla rowing. Above them stretched a solid canopy of grey clouds; the sea was a dull green and it played joyfully with the boat, tossing it up on waves that had not yet grown to any size, and throwing handfuls of pale spray against its sides. Far up ahead could be glimpsed a strip of yellow sand, while behind them stretched the sea, chopped up into coveys of white-caps. Behind them, too, were the ships – a whole forest of masts back there to the left, with the white buildings of the port as a background. A dull rumble came pouring out of the port over the sea, mingling with the roar of the waves to form fine strong music. And over everything hung a thin veil of fog that made all objects seem remote.

“Ekh, it’ll be something to see by nightfall!” exclaimed Chelkash, nodding out to sea.

“A storm?” asked Gavrilla as he ploughed powerfully through the waves with his oars. His clothes were soaked with wind-blown spray.

“Uh-huh,” said Chelkash.

Gavrilla looked at him inquisitively.

“Well, how much did they give you?” he asked at last, seeing that Chelkash had no intention of broaching the subject.

“Look,” and Chelkash pulled something out of his pocket and held it out.

Gavrilla’s eyes were dazzled by the sight of so many crisp bright bank-notes.

“And here I was thinking you had lied to me! How much is it?”

“Five hundred and forty.”

“Phe-e-w!” gasped Gavrilla, following the course of the notes back to the pocket with greedy eyes. “God! If only I had that much money!” and he gave a doleful sigh.

“You and me’ll go on a big spree, mate,” cried Chelkash ecstatically. “We’ll paint the town red. You’ll get your share, never fear. I’ll give you forty. That enough, eh? Give it straight away if you want me to.”

“All right, I’ll take it if you don’t mind.”

Gavrilla was shaking with anticipation.

“Ekh, you scarecrow, you! ‘I’ll take it!’ Here, go ahead and take it. Take it, damn it all. I don’t know what to do with so much money. Do me a favour and take some of it off my hands.”

Chelkash held out several notes to Gavrilla, who let go of the oars to clutch them in trembling fingers and thrust them inside his shirt, screwing up his eyes as he did so and taking in great gulps of air as if he had just scalded his throat. Chelkash watched him, a squeamish smile on his lips. Once more Gavrilla picked up the oars and began to row nervously, hurriedly, with his eyes cast down, like a man who has just had a bad fright. His shoulders and ears were twitching.

“You’re a greedy bloke. That’s no good. But what’s to be expected? – you’re a peasant,” mused Chelkash.

“A man can do anything with money!” exclaimed Gavrilla in a sudden flare of excitement. And then hurriedly, incoherently chasing his thoughts and catching his words on the fly, he drew the contrast between life in the village with money and without it. Honour, comfort, pleasure!

Chelkash followed him attentively, his face grave, his eyes narrowed thoughtfully. From time to time he would give a pleased smile.

“Here we are!” he interrupted Gavrilla’s tirade.

The boat was caught on a wave that drove it into the sand.

“Well, this is the end. But we’ve got to pull the boat up good and high so that it don’t get washed away. Some people will come for it. And now it’s good-bye. We’re about ten versts from town. You going back to town?”

Chelkash’s face was beaming with a sly and good-natured smile, as if he were contemplating something very pleasant for himself and very unexpected for Gavrilla. He thrust his hand into his pocket and rustled the notes there.

“No – I’m not going. I’m – I’m —” Gavrilla stammered as if choking.

Chelkash looked at him.

“What’s eating you?” he said.

“Nothing.” But Gavrilla’s face turned first red, then grey, and he kept shifting on his feet as if he wanted to throw himself at Chelkash or do something else of insuperable difficulty.

Chelkash was nonplussed by the boy’s agitation. He waited to see what would come of it.

Gavrilla broke into laughter that sounded more like sobbing. His head was hanging, so that Chelkash could not see the expression of his face, but he could see his ears going from red to white.

“To hell with you,” said Chelkash with a disgusted wave of his hand. “Are you in love with me, or what? Squirming like a girl. Or maybe you can’t bear to part with me? Speak up, spineless, or I’ll just walk off.”