lezviya i snova i snova delal vid, chto nahodit v nem kakoj-to iz®yan. I opyat' dostaval oselok i tochil, tochil, tochil... V konce koncov menya nachal razbirat' smeh -- vse eto bylo slishkom nelepo. It was also serious, for I learned that he was capable of using it, that under all his cowardice there was a courage of cowardice, like mine, that would impel him to do the very thing his whole nature protested against doing and was afraid of doing. "Cooky's sharpening his knife for Hump," was being whispered about among the sailors, and some of them twitted him about it. This he took in good part, and was really pleased, nodding his head with direful foreknowledge and mystery, until George Leach, the erstwhile cabin- boy, ventured some rough pleasantry on the subject. No delo moglo prinyat' ser'eznyj oborot. Kok i v samom dele gotov byl pustit' etot nozh v hod. YA ponimal, chto on, podobno mne, sposoben sovershit' otchayannyj postupok, imenno v silu svoej trusosti i vmeste s tem vopreki ej. "Magridzh tochit nozh na Hempa", -- peregovarivalis' mezhdu soboj matrosy, a nekotorye stali podnimat' koka na smeh. On snosil nasmeshki spokojno i tol'ko pokachival golovoj s tainstvennym i dazhe dovol'nym vidom, poka byvshij yunga Dzhordzh Lich ne pozvolil sebe kakuyu-to grubuyu shutku na ego schet. Now it happened that Leach was one of the sailors told off to douse Mugridge after his game of cards with the captain. Leach had evidently done his task with a thoroughness that Mugridge had not forgiven, for words followed and evil names involving smirched ancestries. Mugridge menaced with the knife he was sharpening for me. Leach laughed and hurled more of his Telegraph Hill Billingsgate, and before either he or I knew what had happened, his right arm had been ripped open from elbow to wrist by a quick slash of the knife. The cook backed away, a fiendish expression on his face, the knife held before him in a position of defence. But Leach took it quite calmly, though blood was spouting upon the deck as generously as water from a fountain. Nado skazat', chto Lich byl v chisle teh matrosov, kotorye poluchili prikazanie okatit' Magridzha vodoj posle ego igry v karty s kapitanom. Ochevidno, kok ne zabyl, s kakim rveniem ispolnil Lich svoyu zadachu. Kogda Lich zadel koka, tot otvetil gruboj bran'yu, proshelsya naschet predkov matrosa i prigrozil emu nozhom, ottochennym dlya raspravy so mnoj. Lich ne ostalsya v dolgu, i, prezhde chem my uspeli opomnit'sya, ego pravaya ruka okrasilas' krov'yu ot loktya do kisti. Kok otskochil s sataninskim vyrazheniem lica, vystaviv pered soboj nozh dlya zashchity. No Lich otnessya k proisshedshemu nevozmutimo, hotya iz ego rassechennoj ruki hlestala krov'. "I'm goin' to get you, Cooky," he said, "and I'll get you hard. And I won't be in no hurry about it. You'll be without that knife when I come for you." -- YA poschitayus' s toboj, kok, -- skazal on, -- i krepko poschitayus'. Speshit' ne stanu. YA razdelayus' s toboj, kogda ty budesh' bez nozha. So saying, he turned and walked quietly forward. Mugridge's face was livid with fear at what he had done and at what he might expect sooner or later from the man he had stabbed. But his demeanour toward me was more ferocious than ever. In spite of his fear at the reckoning he must expect to pay for what he had done, he could see that it had been an object-lesson to me, and he became more domineering and exultant. Also there was a lust in him, akin to madness, which had come with sight of the blood he had drawn. He was beginning to see red in whatever direction he looked. The psychology of it is sadly tangled, and yet I could read the workings of his mind as clearly as though it were a printed book. S etimi slovami on povernulsya i ushel. Lico Magridzha pomertvelo ot straha pered sodeyannym im i pered neminuemoj mest'yu so storony Licha. No na menya on s etoj minuty ozlobilsya pushche prezhnego. Nesmotrya na ves' ego strah pered grozivshej emu rasplatoj, on ponimal, chto dlya menya eto byl naglyadnyj urok, i sovsem obnaglel. K tomu zhe pri vide prolitoj im krovi v nem prosnulas' zhazhda ubijstva, granichivshaya s bezumiem. Kak ni slozhny podobnye psihicheskie perezhivaniya, vse pobuzhdeniya etogo cheloveka byli dlya menya yasny, -- ya chital v ego dushe, kak v raskrytoj knige. Several days went by, the Ghost still foaming down the trades, and I could swear I saw madness growing in Thomas Mugridge's eyes. And I confess that I became afraid, very much afraid. Whet, whet, whet, it went all day long. The look in his eyes as he felt the keen edge and glared at me was positively carnivorous. I was afraid to turn my shoulder to him, and when I left the galley I went out backwards - to the amusement of the sailors and hunters, who made a point of gathering in groups to witness my exit. The strain was too great. I sometimes thought my mind would give way under it - a meet thing on this ship of madmen and brutes. Every hour, every minute of my existence was in jeopardy. I was a human soul in distress, and yet no soul, fore or aft, betrayed sufficient sympathy to come to my aid. At times I thought of throwing myself on the mercy of Wolf Larsen, but the vision of the mocking devil in his eyes that questioned life and sneered at it would come strong upon me and compel me to refrain. At other times I seriously contemplated suicide, and the whole force of my hopeful philosophy was required to keep me from going over the side in the darkness of night. SHli dni. "Prizrak" po-prezhnemu penil vodu, podgonyaemyj poputnym passatom, a ya nablyudal, kak bezumie zreet v glazah Tomasa Magridzha. Priznayus', mnoj ovladeval strah, otchayannyj strah. Celymi dnyami kok vse tochil i tochil svoj nozh. Probuya pal'cem lezvie nozha, on posmatrival na menya, i glaza ego sverkali, kak u hishchnogo zverya. YA boyalsya povernut'sya k nemu spinoj i, pyatyas', vyhodil iz kambuza, chto chrezvychajno zabavlyalo matrosov i ohotnikov, narochno sobiravshihsya poglyadet' na etot spektakl'. Postoyannoe, nevynosimoe napryazhenie izmuchilo menya; poroj mne kazalos', chto rassudok moj mutitsya. Da i nemudreno bylo sojti s uma na etom korable, sredi bezumnyh i ozverelyh lyudej. Kazhdyj chas, kazhduyu minutu moya zhizn' podvergalas' opasnosti. Moya dusha vechno byla v smyatenii, no na vsem sudne ne nashlos' nikogo, kto vykazal by mne sochuvstvie i prishel by na pomoshch'. Poroj ya podumyval obratit'sya k zastupnichestvu Volka Larsena, no mysl' o d'yavol'skoj usmeshke v ego glazah, vyrazhavshih prezrenie k zhizni, ostanavlivala menya. Vremenami menya poseshchala mysl' o samoubijstve, i mne ponadobilas' vsya sila moej optimisticheskoj filosofii, chtoby kak-nibud' temnoj noch'yu ne prygnut' za bort. Several times Wolf Larsen tried to inveigle me into discussion, but I gave him short answers and eluded him. Finally, he commanded me to resume my seat at the cabin table for a time and let the cook do my work. Then I spoke frankly, telling him what I was enduring from Thomas Mugridge because of the three days of favouritism which had been shown me. Wolf Larsen regarded me with smiling eyes. Volk Larsen neskol'ko raz pytalsya vtyanut' menya v spor, no ya otdelyvalsya lakonicheskimi otvetami i staralsya izbegat' ego. Nakonec on prikazal mne snova zanyat' mesto za stolom v kayut-kompanii i predostavit' koku ispolnyat' za menya moyu rabotu. Tut ya vyskazal emu vse nachistotu, rasskazal, chto prishlos' mne vyterpet' ot Tomasa Magridzha v otmestku za te tri dnya, kogda ya hodil v favoritah. Volk Larsen posmotrel na menya s usmeshkoj. "So you're afraid, eh?" he sneered. -- Tak vy boites' ego? -- sprosil on. "Yes," I said defiantly and honestly, "I am afraid." -- Da, -- chestno priznalsya ya, -- mne strashno. "That's the way with you fellows," he cried, half angrily, "sentimentalizing about your immortal souls and afraid to die. At sight of a sharp knife and a cowardly Cockney the clinging of life to life overcomes all your fond foolishness. Why, my dear fellow, you will live for ever. You are a god, and God cannot be killed. Cooky cannot hurt you. You are sure of your resurrection. What's there to be afraid of? -- Vot i vse vy takie, -- s dosadoj voskliknul on, -- razvodite vsyakie antimonii naschet vashih bessmertnyh dush, a sami boites' umeret'! Pri vide ostrogo nozha v rukah trusa vy sudorozhno ceplyaetes' za zhizn', i ves' etot vzdor vyletaet u vas iz golovy. Kak zhe tak, milejshij, ved' vy budete zhit' vechno? Vy -- bog, a boga nel'zya ubit'. Kok ne mozhet prichinit' vam zla -- vy zhe uvereny, chto vam predstoit voskresnut'. CHego zhe vy boites'? "You have eternal life before you. You are a millionaire in immortality, and a millionaire whose fortune cannot be lost, whose fortune is less perishable than the stars and as lasting as space or time. It is impossible for you to diminish your principal. Immortality is a thing without beginning or end. Eternity is eternity, and though you die here and now you will go on living somewhere else and hereafter. And it is all very beautiful, this shaking off of the flesh and soaring of the imprisoned spirit. Cooky cannot hurt you. He can only give you a boost on the path you eternally must tread. Ved' pered vami vechnaya zhizn'. Vy zhe millioner v smysle bessmertiya, pritom millioner, kotoromu ne grozit poteryat' svoe sostoyanie, tak kak ono dolgovechnee zvezd i bezgranichno, kak prostranstvo i vremya. Vy ne mozhete rastratit' svoj osnovnoj kapital. Bessmertie ne imeet ni nachala, ni konca. Vechnost' est' vechnost', i, umiraya zdes', vy budete zhit' i vpred' v drugom meste. I kak eto prekrasno -- osvobozhdenie ot ploti i svobodnyj vzlet duhaKok ne mozhet prichinit' vam zla. On mozhet tol'ko podtolknut' vas na tot put', po kotoromu vam suzhdeno idti vechno. "Or, if you do not wish to be boosted just yet, why not boost Cooky? According to your ideas, he, too, must be an immortal millionaire. You cannot bankrupt him. His paper will always circulate at par. You cannot diminish the length of his living by killing him, for he is without beginning or end. He's bound to go on living, somewhere, somehow. Then boost him. Stick a knife in him and let his spirit free. As it is, it's in a nasty prison, and you'll do him only a kindness by breaking down the door. And who knows? - it may be a very beautiful spirit that will go soaring up into the blue from that ugly carcass. Boost him along, and I'll promote you to his place, and he's getting forty-five dollars a month." A esli u vas net poka ohoty otpravlyat'sya na nebesa, pochemu by vam ne otpravit' tuda koka? Soglasno vashim vozzreniyam, on tozhe millioner bessmertiya. Vy ne mozhete dovesti ego do bankrotstva. Ego akcii vsegda budut kotirovat'sya al'-pari. Ubiv ego, vy ne sokratite sroka ego zhizni, tak kak eta zhizn' ne imeet ni nachala, ni konca. Gde-to, kak-to, no etot chelovek dolzhen zhit' vechno. Tak otprav'te ego na neboPyrnite ego nozhom i vypustite ego duh na svobodu. |tot duh tomitsya v otvratitel'noj tyur'me, i vy tol'ko okazhete emu lyubeznost', vzlomav ee dveri. I, kto znaet, byt' mozhet, prekrasnejshij duh vosparit v lazur' iz etoj urodlivoj obolochki. Tak vsadite v koka nozh, i ya naznachu vas na ego mesto, a ved' on poluchaet sorok pyat' dollarov v mesyac! It was plain that I could look for no help or mercy from Wolf Larsen. Whatever was to be done I must do for myself; and out of the courage of fear I evolved the plan of fighting Thomas Mugridge with his own weapons. I borrowed a whetstone from Johansen. Louis, the boat-steerer, had already begged me for condensed milk and sugar. The lazarette, where such delicacies were stored, was situated beneath the cabin floor. Watching my chance, I stole five cans of the milk, and that night, when it was Louis's watch on deck, I traded them with him for a dirk as lean and cruel-looking as Thomas Mugridge's vegetable knife. It was rusty and dull, but I turned the grindstone while Louis gave it an edge. I slept more soundly than usual that night. NetOt Volka Larsena ne prihodilos' zhdat' ni pomoshchi, ni sochuvstviyaYA mog nadeyat'sya tol'ko na sebya, i otvaga otchayaniya podskazala mne plan dejstvij: ya reshil borot'sya s Tomasom Magridzhem ego zhe oruzhiem i zanyal u Iogansena tochilo. Luis, rulevoj odnoj iz shlyupok, kak-to prosil menya dostat' emu sgushchennogo moloka i saharu. Kladovaya, gde hranilis' eti delikatesy, byla raspolozhena pod polom kayut-kompanii. Uluchiv minutu, ya styanul pyat' banok moloka i noch'yu, kogda Luis stoyal na vahte, vymenyal u nego na eto moloko tesak, takoj zhe dlinnyj i strashnyj, kak kuhonnyj nozh Tomasa Magridzha. Tesak byl zarzhavlennyj i tupoj, no my s Luisom priveli ego v poryadok: ya vertel tochilo, a Luis pravil lezvie. V etu noch' ya spal krepche i spokojnee, chem obychno. Next morning, after breakfast, Thomas Mugridge began his whet, whet, whet. I glanced warily at him, for I was on my knees taking the ashes from the stove. When I returned from throwing them overside, he was talking to Harrison, whose honest yokel's face was filled with fascination and wonder. Utrom, posle zavtraka, Tomas Magridzh opyat' prinyalsya za svoe: chirk, chirk, chirk. YA s opaskoj glyanul na nego, tak kak stoyal v eto vremya na kolenyah, vygrebaya iz plity zolu. Vybrosiv ee za bort, ya vernulsya v kambuz; kok razgovarival s Garrisonom, -- otkrytoe, prostodushnoe lico matrosa vyrazhalo izumlenie. "Yes," Mugridge was saying, "an' wot does 'is worship do but give me two years in Reading. But blimey if I cared. The other mug was fixed plenty. Should 'a seen 'im. Knife just like this. I stuck it in, like into soft butter, an' the w'y 'e squealed was better'n a tu-penny gaff." He shot a glance in my direction to see if I was taking it in, and went on. "'I didn't mean it Tommy,' 'e was snifflin'; 'so 'elp me Gawd, I didn't mean it!' "'I'll fix yer bloody well right,' I sez, an' kept right after 'im. I cut 'im in ribbons, that's wot I did, an' 'e a-squealin' all the time. Once 'e got 'is 'and on the knife an' tried to 'old it. 'Ad 'is fingers around it, but I pulled it through, cuttin' to the bone. O, 'e was a sight, I can tell yer." -- Da! -- rasskazyval Magridzh. -- I chto zhe sdelal sud'ya? Zasadil menya na dva goda v Redingskuyu tyur'mu. A mne bylo naplevat', ya zato horosho razukrasil rozhu etomu podlecu. Posmotrel by ty na negoNozh byl vot takoj samyj. Voshel, kak v maslo. A tot kak vzvoetEj-bogu, luchshe vsyakogo predstavleniya! -- Kok brosil vzglyad v moyu storonu, zhelaya ubedit'sya, chto ya vse eto slyshal, i prodolzhal: -- "YA ne hotel tebya obidet', Tommi, -- zahnykal on, -- ubej menya bog, esli ya vru!" -- "YA tebya eshche malo prouchil", -- skazal ya i kinulsya na nego. YA ispolosoval emu vsyu rozhu, a on tol'ko vizzhal, kak svin'ya. Raz uhvatilsya rukoj za nozh -- hotel otvesti ego, a ya kak dernu -- i razrezal emu pal'cy do kosti. Nu i vid u nego byl, dolozhu ya tebe! A call from the mate interrupted the gory narrative, and Harrison went aft. Mugridge sat down on the raised threshold to the galley and went on with his knife-sharpening. I put the shovel away and calmly sat down on the coal-box facing him. He favoured me with a vicious stare. Still calmly, though my heart was going pitapat, I pulled out Louis's dirk and began to whet it on the stone. I had looked for almost any sort of explosion on the Cockney's part, but to my surprise he did not appear aware of what I was doing. He went on whetting his knife. So did I. And for two hours we sat there, face to face, whet, whet, whet, till the news of it spread abroad and half the ship's company was crowding the galley doors to see the sight. Golos pomoshchnika prerval etot krovavyj rasskaz, i Garrison otpravilsya na kormu, a Magridzh uselsya na vysokom poroge kambuza i snova prinyalsya tochit' svoj nozh. YA brosil sovok i spokojno raspolozhilsya na ugol'nom yashchike licom k moemu vragu. On zlobno pokosilsya na menya. Sohranyaya vneshnee spokojstvie, hotya serdce otchayanno kolotilos' u menya v grudi, ya vytashchil tesak Luisa i prinyalsya tochit' ego o kamen'. YA ozhidal kakoj-nibud' beshenoj vyhodki so storony koka, no, k moemu udivleniyu, on budto i ne zamechal, chto YA delayu. On tochil svoj nozh, ya -- svoj. CHasa dva sideli my tak, licom k licu, i tochili, tochili, tochili, poka sluh ob etom ne obletel vsyu shhunu i dobraya polovina ekipazha ne stolpilas' u dverej kambuza polyubovat'sya takim nevidannym zrelishchem. Encouragement and advice were freely tendered, and Jock Horner, the quiet, self-spoken hunter who looked as though he would not harm a mouse, advised me to leave the ribs alone and to thrust upward for the abdomen, at the same time giving what he called the "Spanish twist" to the blade. Leach, his bandaged arm prominently to the fore, begged me to leave a few remnants of the cook for him; and Wolf Larsen paused once or twice at the break of the poop to glance curiously at what must have been to him a stirring and crawling of the yeasty thing he knew as life. So vseh storon stali razdavat'sya podbadrivayushchie vozglasy i sovety. Dazhe Dzhok Horner, spokojnyj i molchalivyj ohotnik, s vidu nesposobnyj obidet' i muhu, sovetoval mne pyrnut' koka ne pod rebra, a v zhivot i primenit' pri etom tak nazyvaemyj "ispanskij povorot". Lich, vystaviv napokaz svoyu perevyazannuyu ruku, prosil menya ostavit' emu hot' kusochek koka dlya raspravy, a Volk Larsen raza dva ostanavlivalsya na krayu poluyuta i s lyubopytstvom poglyadyval na to, chto on nazyval brozheniem zhiznennoj zakvaski. And I make free to say that for the time being life assumed the same sordid values to me. There was nothing pretty about it, nothing divine - only two cowardly moving things that sat whetting steel upon stone, and a group of other moving things, cowardly and otherwise, that looked on. Half of them, I am sure, were anxious to see us shedding each other's blood. It would have been entertainment. And I do not think there was one who would have interfered had we closed in a death-struggle. Ne skroyu, chto v eto vremya zhizn' imela ves'ma somnitel'nuyu cennost' v moih glazah. Da, v nej ne bylo nichego privlekatel'nogo, nichego bozhestvennogo -- prosto dva truslivyh dvunogih sushchestva sideli drug protiv druga i tochili stal' o kamen', a kuchka drugih bolee ili menee truslivyh sushchestv tolpilas' krugom i glazela. YA uveren, chto polovina zritelej s neterpeniem zhdala, kogda my nachnem polosovat' drug druga. |to bylo by neplohoj potehoj. I ya dumayu, chto ni odin iz nih ne brosilsya by nas raznimat', esli by my shvatilis' ne na zhizn', a na smert'. On the other hand, the whole thing was laughable and childish. Whet, whet, whet, - Humphrey Van Weyden sharpening his knife in a ship's galley and trying its edge with his thumb! Of all situations this was the most inconceivable. I know that my own kind could not have believed it possible. I had not been called "Sissy" Van Weyden all my days without reason, and that "Sissy" Van Weyden should be capable of doing this thing was a revelation to Humphrey Van Weyden, who knew not whether to be exultant or ashamed. S drugoj storony, vo vsem etom bylo mnogo smeshnogo i rebyacheskogo. CHirk, chirk, chirk! Hemfri Van-Vejden tochit tesak v kambuze i probuet bol'shim pal'cem ego ostrie, -- mozhno li vydumat' chto-nibud' bolee neveroyatnoeNikto iz znavshih menya nikogda by etomu ne poveril. Ved' menya vsyu zhizn' nazyvali "nezhenka Van-Vejden", i to, chto "nezhenka Van-Vejden" okazalsya sposoben na takie veshchi, bylo otkroveniem dlya Hemfri Van-Vejdena, kotoryj ne znal, radovat'sya emu ili stydit'sya. But nothing happened. At the end of two hours Thomas Mugridge put away knife and stone and held out his hand. Odnako delo konchilos' nichem. CHasa cherez dva Tomas Magridzh otlozhil v storonu nozh i tochilo i protyanul mne ruku. "Wot's the good of mykin' a 'oly show of ourselves for them mugs?" he demanded. "They don't love us, an' bloody well glad they'd be a-seein' us cuttin' our throats. Yer not 'arf bad, 'Ump! You've got spunk, as you Yanks s'y, an' I like yer in a w'y. So come on an' shyke." -- K chemu nam poteshat' etih skotov? -- skazal on. -- Oni budut tol'ko rady, esli my pererezhem drug drugu glotki. Ty ne takaya uzh dryan', Hemp! V tebe est' ogonek, kak govorite vy, yanki. Ej-ej, ty ne plohoj paren'. Nu, idi syuda, davaj ruku! Coward that I might be, I was less a coward than he. It was a distinct victory I had gained, and I refused to forego any of it by shaking his detestable hand. Kakim by ya ni byl trusom, on v etom otnoshenii pereshchegolyal menya. |to byla yavnaya pobeda, i ya ne hotel umalit' ee, pozhav ego merzkuyu lapu. "All right," he said pridelessly, "tyke it or leave it, I'll like yer none the less for it." And to save his face he turned fiercely upon the onlookers. "Get outa my galley-doors, you bloomin' swabs!" -- Nu ladno, -- neobidchivo zametil kok, -- ne hochesh', ne nado. Vse ravno, ty slavnyj paren'! -- I, chtoby skryt' smushchenie, on yarostno nakinulsya na zritelej: -- Von otsyuda, poshli von! This command was reinforced by a steaming kettle of water, and at sight of it the sailors scrambled out of the way. This was a sort of victory for Thomas Mugridge, and enabled him to accept more gracefully the defeat I had given him, though, of course, he was too discreet to attempt to drive the hunters away. CHtoby prikaz vozymel luchshee dejstvie, kok shvatil kastryulyu kipyatku, i matrosy pospeshno otstupili. Takim obrazom Tomas Magridzh oderzhal pobedu, kotoraya smyagchila emu tyazhest' nanesennogo mnoyu porazheniya Vprochem, on byl dostatochno ostorozhen, chtoby, prognav matrosov, ne tronut' ohotnikov. "I see Cooky's finish," I heard Smoke say to Horner. -- Nu, koku prishel konec, -- podelilsya Smok svoimi soobrazheniyami s Hornerom. "You bet," was the reply. "Hump runs the galley from now on, and Cooky pulls in his horns." -- Verno, -- otvetil tot. -- Teper' Hemp -- hozyain v kambuze, a koku pridetsya podzhat' hvost. Mugridge heard and shot a swift glance at me, but I gave no sign that the conversation had reached me. I had not thought my victory was so far-reaching and complete, but I resolved to let go nothing I had gained. As the days went by, Smoke's prophecy was verified. The Cockney became more humble and slavish to me than even to Wolf Larsen. I mistered him and sirred him no longer, washed no more greasy pots, and peeled no more potatoes. I did my own work, and my own work only, and when and in what fashion I saw fit. Also I carried the dirk in a sheath at my hip, sailor-fashion, and maintained toward Thomas Mugridge a constant attitude which was composed of equal parts of domineering, insult, and contempt. Magridzh uslyhal eto i metnul na menya bystryj vzglyad, no ya i uhom ne povel, budto razgovor etot ne doletel do moih ushej. YA ne schital svoyu pobedu okonchatel'noj i polnoj, no reshil ne ustupat' nichego iz svoih zavoevanij. Vprochem, prorochestvo Smoka sbylos'. Kok s toj pory stal derzhat'sya so mnoj dazhe bolee zaiskivayushche i podobostrastno, chem s samim Volkom Larsenom. A ya bol'she ne velichal ego ni "misterom", ni "serom", ne myl gryaznyh kastryul' i ne chistil kartoshki. YA ispolnyal svoyu rabotu, i tol'ko. I delal ee, kak sam nahodil nuzhnym. Tesak ya nosil v nozhnah u bedra, na maner kortika, a v obrashchenii s Tomasom Magridzhem priderzhivalsya vlastnogo, grubogo i prezritel'nogo tona. CHAPTER X GLAVA X My intimacy with Wolf Larsen increases - if by intimacy may be denoted those relations which exist between master and man, or, better yet, between king and jester. I am to him no more than a toy, and he values me no more than a child values a toy. My function is to amuse, and so long as I amuse all goes well; but let him become bored, or let him have one of his black moods come upon him, and at once I am relegated from cabin table to galley, while, at the same time, I am fortunate to escape with my life and a whole body. Moya blizost' s Volkom Larsenom vozrastaet, esli tol'ko slovo "blizost'" primenimo k otnosheniyam mezhdu gospodinom i slugoj ili, eshche luchshe, mezhdu korolem i shutom. YA dlya nego ne bolee kak zabava, i cenit on menya ne bol'she, chem rebenok igrushku. Moya obyazannost' -- razvlekat' ego, i poka emu veselo, vse idet horosho. No stoit tol'ko emu soskuchit'sya v moem obshchestve ili vpast' v mrachnoe nastroenie, kak ya migom okazyvayus' izgnannym iz kayut-kompanii v kambuz, i horosho eshche, chto mne udaetsya poka uhodit' celym i nevredimym. The loneliness of the man is slowly being borne in upon me. There is not a man aboard but hates or fears him, nor is there a man whom he does not despise. He seems consuming with the tremendous power that is in him and that seems never to have found adequate expression in works. He is as Lucifer would be, were that proud spirit banished to a society of soulless, Tomlinsonian ghosts. YA nachinayu ponimat', naskol'ko on odinok. Na vsej shhune net cheloveka, kotoryj ne boyalsya by ego i ne ispytyval by k nemu nenavisti. I tochno tak zhe net ni odnogo, kotorogo by on, v svoyu ochered', ne preziral. Ego slovno pozhiraet zaklyuchennaya v nem neukrotimaya sila, ne nahodyashchaya sebe primeneniya. Takim byl by Lyucifer, esli by etot gordyj duh byl izgnan v mir bezdushnyh prizrakov, podobnyh Tomlinsonu. This loneliness is bad enough in itself, but, to make it worse, he is oppressed by the primal melancholy of the race. Knowing him, I review the old Scandinavian myths with clearer understanding. The white-skinned, fair-haired savages who created that terrible pantheon were of the same fibre as he. The frivolity of the laughter-loving Latins is no part of him. When he laughs it is from a humour that is nothing else than ferocious. But he laughs rarely; he is too often sad. And it is a sadness as deep-reaching as the roots of the race. It is the race heritage, the sadness which has made the race sober-minded, clean-lived and fanatically moral, and which, in this latter connection, has culminated among the English in the Reformed Church and Mrs. Grundy. Takoe odinochestvo tyagostno samo po sebe, u Larsena zhe ono usugublyaetsya iskonnoj melanholichnost'yu ego rasy. Uznav ego, ya nachal luchshe ponimat' drevnie skandinavskie mify. Belolicye, svetlovolosye dikari, sozdavshie etot uzhasnyj mir bogov, byli sotkany iz toj zhe tkani, chto i etot chelovek. V nem net ni kapli legkomysliya predstavitelej latinskoj rasy. Ego smeh -- porozhdenie svirepogo yumora. No smeetsya on redko. CHashche on pechalen. I pechal' eta uhodit kornyami k istokam ego rasy. Ona dostalas' emu v nasledstvo ot predkov. |ta zadumchivaya melanholiya vyrabotala v ego narode trezvyj um, privychku k opryatnoj zhizni i fanaticheskuyu nravstvennost', kotoraya u anglichan nashla vposledstvii svoe zavershenie v puritanizme i v missis Grendi [9]. In point of fact, the chief vent to this primal melancholy has been religion in its more agonizing forms. But the compensations of such religion are denied Wolf Larsen. His brutal materialism will not permit it. So, when his blue moods come on, nothing remains for him, but to be devilish. Were he not so terrible a man, I could sometimes feel sorry for him, as instance three mornings ago, when I went into his stateroom to fill his water-bottle and came unexpectedly upon him. He did not see me. His head was buried in his hands, and his shoulders were heaving convulsively as with sobs. He seemed torn by some mighty grief. As I softly withdrew I could hear him groaning, "God! God! God!" Not that he was calling upon God; it was a mere expletive, but it came from his soul. No, v sushchnosti, glavnyj vyhod eta melanholiya nahodila v religii, v ee naibolee izuverskih formah. Odnako Volku Larsenu ne dano i etogo utesheniya. Ono nesovmestimo s ego grubym materializmom. Poetomu, kogda chernaya toska odolevaet ego, ona nahodit ishod tol'ko v dikih vyhodkah. Bud' etot chelovek ne tak uzhasen, ya mog by poroj proniknut'sya zhalost'yu k nemu. Tak, naprimer, tri dnya skazal ya zashel nalit' emu vody v grafin i zastal ego v kayute. On ne videl menya. On sidel, obhvativ golovu rukami, i plechi ego sudorozhno vzdragivali ot sderzhannyh rydanij. Kazalos', kakoe-to ostroe gore terzaet ego. YA tihon'ko vyshel, no uspel uslyhat', kak on prostonal: "Gospodi, gospodi!" On, konechno, ne prizyval boga, -- eto vosklicanie vyrvalos' u nego bessoznatel'no. At dinner he asked the hunters for a remedy for headache, and by evening, strong man that he was, he was half-blind and reeling about the cabin. Za obedom on sprashival ohotnikov, net li u nih chego-nibud' ot golovnoj boli, a vecherom etot sil'nyj chelovek, s pomutivshimsya vzorom, metalsya iz ugla v ugol po kayut-kompanii. "I've never been sick in my life, Hump," he said, as I guided him to his room. "Nor did I ever have a headache except the time my head was healing after having been laid open for six inches by a capstan-bar." -- YA nikogda ne hvoral, Hemp, -- skazal on mne, kogda ya otvel ego v kayutu. -- Dazhe golovnoj boli prezhde ne ispytyval, raz tol'ko, kogda mne raskroili cherep vymbovkoj i rana nachala zazhivat'. For three days this blinding headache lasted, and he suffered as wild animals suffer, as it seemed the way on ship to suffer, without plaint, without sympathy, utterly alone. Tri dnya muchili ego eti nesterpimye golovnye boli, i on stradal bezropotno i odinoko, kak stradayut dikie zveri i kak, po-vidimomu, prinyato stradat' na korable. This morning, however, on entering his state-room to make the bed and put things in order, I found him well and hard at work. Table and bunk were littered with designs and calculations. On a large transparent sheet, compass and square in hand, he was copying what appeared to be a scale of some sort or other. No, vojdya segodnya utrom v ego kayutu, chtoby pribrat' ee, ya zastal ego zdorovym i pogruzhennym v rabotu. Stol i kojka byli zavaleny raschetami i chertezhami. S cirkulem i ugol'nikom v rukah on nanosil na bol'shoj list kal'ki kakoj-to chertezh. "Hello, Hump," he greeted me genially. "I'm just finishing the finishing touches. Want to see it work?" -- A, Hemp! -- privetstvoval on menya. -- YA kak raz zakanchivayu etu shtuku. Hotite posmotret', kak poluchaetsya? "But what is it?" I asked. -- A chto eto takoe? "A labour-saving device for mariners, navigation reduced to kindergarten simplicity," he answered gaily. "From to-day a child will be able to navigate a ship. No more long-winded calculations. All you need is one star in the sky on a dirty night to know instantly where you are. Look. I place the transparent scale on this star-map, revolving the scale on the North Pole. On the scale I've worked out the circles of altitude and the lines of bearing. All I do is to put it on a star, revolve the scale till it is opposite those figures on the map underneath, and presto! there you are, the ship's precise location!" -- |to prisposoblenie, sberegayushchee moryakam trud i uproshchayushchee korablevozhdenie do detskoj igry, -- veselo otvechal on. -- Otnyne i rebenok smozhet vesti korabl'. Doloj beskonechnye vychisleniyaDazhe v tumannuyu noch' dostatochno odnoj zvezdy v nebe, chtoby srazu opredelit', gde vy nahodites'. Vot poglyaditeYA nakladyvayu etu shtuku na kartu zvezdnogo neba i, sovmestiv polyusa, vrashchayu ee vokrug Severnogo polyusa. Na kal'ke oboznacheny krugi vysot i linii pelengov. YA ustanavlivayu kal'ku po zvezde i povorachivayu ee, poka ona ne okazhetsya protiv cifr, nanesennyh na krayu karty. I gotovo! Vot vam tochnoe mesto korablya! There was a ring of triumph in his voice, and his eyes, clear blue this morning as the sea, were sparkling with light. V ego golose zvuchalo torzhestvo, glaza -- golubye v eto utro, kak more, -- iskrilis'. "You must be well up in mathematics," I said. "Where did you go to school?" -- Vy, dolzhno byt', sil'ny v matematike, -- zametil ya. -- Gde vy uchilis'? "Never saw the inside of one, worse luck," was the answer. "I had to dig it out for myself." -- K sozhaleniyu, nigde, -- otvetil on. -- Mne do vsego prishlos' dohodit' samomu. "And why do you think I have made this thing?" he demanded, abruptly. "Dreaming to leave footprints on the sands of time?" He laughed one of his horrible mocking laughs. "Not at all. To get it patented, to make money from it, to revel in piggishness with all night in while other men do the work. That's my purpose. Also, I have enjoyed working it out." -- A kak vy dumaete, dlya chego ya izobrel eto? -- neozhidanno sprosil on. -- Hotel ostavit' "sled svoj na peske vremen"? -- On nasmeshlivo rashohotalsya. -- Nichego podobnogoProsto hochu vzyat' patent, poluchit' za nego den'gi i predavat'sya vsyakomu svinstvu, poka drugie trudyatsya. Vot moya cel'. Krome togo, sama rabota nad etoj shtukoj dostavlyala mne radost'. "The creative joy," I murmured. -- Radost' tvorchestva, -- vstavil ya. "I guess that's what it ought to be called. Which is another way of expressing the joy of life in that it is alive, the triumph of movement over matter, of the quick over the dead, the pride of the yeast because it is yeast and crawls." -- Veroyatno, tak eto nazyvaetsya. Eshche odin iz sposobov proyavleniya radosti zhizni, torzhestva dvizheniya nad materiej, zhivogo nad mertvym, gordost' zakvaski, chuvstvuyushchej, chto ona brodit. I threw up my hands with helpless disapproval of his inveterate materialism and went about making the bed. He continued copying lines and figures upon the transparent scale. It was a task requiring the utmost nicety and precision, and I could not but admire the way he tempered his strength to the fineness and delicacy of the need. YA vsplesnul rukami, bespomoshchno protestuya protiv ego zakorenelogo materializma, i prinyalsya zastilat' kojku. On prodolzhal nanosit' linii i cifry na chertezh. |to trebovalo chrezvychajnoj ostorozhnosti i tochnosti, i ya porazhalsya, kak emu udaetsya umeryat' svoyu silishchu pri ispolnenii stol' tonkoj raboty. When I had finished the bed, I caught myself looking at him in a fascinated sort of way. He was certainly a handsome man - beautiful in the masculine sense. And again, with never-failing wonder, I remarked the total lack of viciousness, or wickedness, or sinfulness in his face. It was the face, I am convinced, of a man who did no wrong. And by this I do not wish to be misunderstood. What I mean is that it was the face of a man who either did nothing contrary to the dictates of his conscience, or who had no conscience. I am inclined to the latter way of accounting for it. He was a magnificent atavism, a man so purely primitive that he was of the type that came into the world before the development of the moral nature. He was not immoral, but merely unmoral. Konchiv zapravlyat' kojku, ya nevol'no zasmotrelsya na nego. On byl, nesomnenno, krasiv, -- nastoyashchej muzhskoj krasotoj. Snova ya s udivleniem otmetil, chto v ego lice net nichego zlobnogo ili porochnogo. Mozhno bylo poklyast'sya, chto chelovek etot ne sposoben na zlo. No ya boyus' byt' prevratno ponyatym. YA hochu skazat' tol'ko, chto eto bylo lico cheloveka, nikogda ne idushchego vrazrez so svoej sovest'yu, ili zhe cheloveka, vovse lishennogo sovesti. I ya sklonyayus' k poslednemu predpolozheniyu. |to byl velikolepnyj obrazchik atavizma -- chelovek nastol'ko primitivnyj, chto v nem kak by voskres ego pervobytnyj predok, zhivshij na zemle zadolgo do razvitiya nravstvennogo nachala v lyudyah. On ne byl amoralen, -- k nemu bylo prosto neprimenimo ponyatie morali. As I have said, in the masculine sense his was a beautiful face. Smooth-shaven, every line was distinct, and it was cut as clear and sharp as a cameo; while sea and sun had tanned the naturally fair skin to a dark bronze which bespoke struggle and battle and added both to his savagery and his beauty. The lips were full, yet possessed of the firmness, almost harshness, which is characteristic of thin lips. The set of his mouth, his chin, his jaw, was likewise firm or harsh, with all the fierceness and indomitableness of the male - the nose also. It was the nose of a being born to conquer and command. It just hinted of the eagle beak. It might have been Grecian, it might have been Roman, only it was a shade too massive for the one, a shade too delicate for the other. And while the whole face was the incarnation of fierceness and strength, the primal melancholy from which he suffered seemed to greaten the lines of mouth and eye and brow, seemed to give a largeness and completeness which otherwise the face would have lacked. Kak ya uzhe skazal, ego lico otlichalos' muzhestvennoj krasotoj. Ono bylo gladko vybrito, i kazhdaya cherta vydelyalas' chetko, kak u kamei. Ot solnca i solenoj morskoj vody kozha ego potemnela i stala bronzovoj, i eto pridavalo ego krasote dikarskij vid, napominaya o dolgoj i upornoj bor'be so stihiyami. Polnye guby byli ochercheny tverdo i dazhe rezko, chto harakterno skoree dlya tonkih gub. V takih zhe tverdyh i rezkih liniyah podborodka, nosa i skul chuvstvovalas' svirepaya neukrotimost' samca. Nos napominal orlinyj klyuv, -- v nem bylo chto-to hishchnoe i vlastnoe. Ego nel'zya bylo nazvat' grecheskim -- dlya etogo on byl slishkom massiven, a dlya rimskogo -- slishkom tonok. Vse lico v celom proizvodilo vpechatlenie svireposti i sily, no ten' izvechnoj melanholii, lezhavshaya na nem, uglublyala skladki vokrug rta i morshchiny na lbu i pridavala emu kakoe-to velichie i zakonchennost'. And so I caught myself standing idly and studying him. I cannot say how greatly the man had come to interest me. Who was he? What was he? How had he happened to be? All powers seemed his, all potentialities - why, then, was he no more than the obscure master of a seal-hunting schooner with a reputation for frightful brutality amongst the men who hunted seals? Itak, ya pojmal sebya na tom, chto stoyal i prazdno izuchal Larsena. Trudno peredat', kak gluboko interesoval menya etot chelovek. Kto on? CHto on za sushchestvo? Kak slozhilsya etot harakter? Kazalos', v nem byli zalozheny neischerpaemye vozmozhnosti. Pochemu zhe ostavalsya on bezvestnym kapitanom kakoj-to zverobojnoj shhuny, proslavivshimsya sredi ohotnikov tol'ko svoej neobychajnoj zhestokost'yu? My curiosity burst from me in a flood of speech. Moe lyubopytstvo prorvalos' naruzhu celym potokom slov. "Why is it that you have not done great things in this world? With the power that is yours you might have risen to any height. Unpossessed of conscience or moral instinct, you might have mastered the world, broken it to your hand. And yet here you are, at the top of your life, where diminishing and dying begin, living an obscure and sordid existence, hunting sea animals for the satisfaction of woman's vanity and love of decoration, revelling in a piggishness, to use your own words, which is anything and everything except splendid. Why, with all that wonderful strength, have you not done something? There was nothing to stop you, nothing that could stop you. What was wrong? Did you lack ambition? Did you fall under temptation? What was the matter? What was the matter?" -- Pochemu vy ne sovershili nichego znachitel'nogo? Zalozhennaya v vas sila mogla by podnyat' takogo, kak vy, na lyubuyu vysоtu. Lishennyj sovesti i nravstvennyh ustoev, vy mogli by polozhit' sebe pod nogi mir. A ya vizhu vas zdes', v rascvete sil, kotorye skoro pojdut na ubyl'. Vy vedete bezvestnoe i otvratitel'noe sushchestvovanie, ohotites' na morskih zhivotnyh, kotorye nuzhny tol'ko dlya udovletvoreniya tshcheslaviya zhenshchin, pogryazshih v svinstve, po vashim zhe sobstvennym slovam. Vy vedete zhizn', v kotoroj net absolyutno nichego vysokogo. Pochemu zhe pri vsej vashej udivitel'noj sile vy nichego ne sovershili? Nichto ne moglo ostanovit' vas ili pomeshat' vam. V chem zhe delo? U vas ne bylo chestolyubiya? Ili vy pali zhertvoj kakogo-to soblazna? V chem delo? V chem d