Chelkash and Other Stories (4 page)

“Hey! Where are we going?” suddenly exclaimed Gavrila.

Chelkash started and looked round with the alert gaze of a bird of prey.

“Christ, look where we have drifted to! Lay to the oars! Pull! Pull harder!”

“You've been dreaming, eh,” Gavrila asked with a smile.

“I'm tired....”

“So now we won't get caught with these, will we?” Gavrila asked, kicking at the bales at the bottom of the boat.

“No.... You can ease your mind on that score. I'll deliver them and get the money.... Y-e-s!”

“Five hundred?”

“No less.”

“A tidy sum! Wish I had it! Ekh, wouldn't I play a tune with it!”

“On the farm?”

“I should say so! I'd....”

And Gavrila flew off on winged dreams. Chelkash remained silent. His moustache drooped; his right side, splashed by the spray, was dripping wet. His eyes were now sunken and had lost their brightness. Everything rapacious in him had sagged, subdued by humiliating thoughts, which were reflected even from the folds of his grimy blouse.

He swung the boat round abruptly and steered towards something black that loomed out of the water.

The sky was again overcast and rain fell, a fine, warm rain, which pattered merrily as the drops struck the backs of the waves.

“Stop! Be quiet!” commanded Chelkash.

The boat's nose struck the side of a barge.

“Are they asleep, or what, the devils?” growled Chelkash, catching hold with a boat hook of some ropes that were dangling from the deck. “Drop the ladder! Blast it! It must go and rain now! Why couldn't it have rained before! Hey, you swabs! Hey!”

“Is that you, Selkash?” came a voice from above that sounded like the mewing of a cat.

“Come on, drop the ladder!”

“Kalimera, Selkash!”

“Drop the ladder, you hell-smoked devil!” roared Chelkash.

“Oh how angry he eez tonight.... Eloy!”

“Up you go, Gavrila!” said Chelkash to his mate.

Within a moment they were on the deck, where three dark-bearded figures were animatedly chattering to each other in a strange lisping tongue and looking over the gunwale down at Chelkash's boat. A fourth, wrapped in a long chlamys, went up to Chelkash, silently shook hands with him, and then glanced suspiciously at Gavrila.

“Get the money by the morning,” said Chelkash to him curtly. “I'll turn in now. Come on, Gavrila! Do you want anything to eat?”

“All I want is to sleep . . . ” answered Gavrila, and five minutes later he was snoring, while Chelkash, sitting beside him, was trying on somebody's top boot, pensively spitting on the side and whistling a mournful tune through his teeth. Then he stretched out beside Gavrila, put his hands under the back of his head and lay there, twitching his moustache.

The barge rocked gently on the playful water. Something creaked plaintively. The rain pattered softly on the deck. The waves splashed against the side of the barge. . . . And it all sounded so sad, like a cradle song sung by a mother who had no hopes of happiness for her son. . . .

Chelkash bared his teeth, raised his head, looked around, whispered something to himself, and lay down again. . . . He spread out his legs, and this made him look like a huge pair of scissors.

He woke up first, looked around anxiously, calmed down at once and looked at Gavrila who was still sleeping, snoring lustily, with a smile spread all over his boyish, healthy, sunburnt face. Chelkash sighed and climbed up a narrow rope ladder. A patch of leaden sky peered down the hatchway. It was already light, but the day was dull and grey, as it usually is in the autumn.

Chelkash returned about two hours later. His face was flushed and his moustaches were dashingly screwed upward. He wore a tunic and buckskin breeches, and a pair of tall, stout top boots. He looked like a huntsman. Although not new, the costume was still sound and suited him well. It made him look broader, concealed his gauntness and gave him a martial appearance.

“Hey, you calf, get up!” he cried, pushing Gavrila with his foot.

Gavrila jumped up. Still half asleep, he failed to recognize Chelkash and stared at him with dull, sleepish eyes. Chelkash burst out laughing.

“You do look fine!” exclaimed Gavrila at last, with a broad smile. “Quite a gentleman!”

“That doesn't take long with us. Well, aren't you a frightened baby! You thought you were going to die a thousand times last night, didn't you?”

“Yes, but judge for yourself. It was the first time I was on a job like that! I might have damned my soul for the rest of my life!”

“Would you come with me again?”

“Again? ... Well.... What can I say? What will I get out of it? Tell me that!”

“Well, suppose you'd get two rainbow ones?”

“Two hundred rubles? That's not so bad.... I'd go for that....”

“But wait a minute! What about damning your soul?”

“Well ... perhaps ... it won't be damned!” answered Gavrila with a smile. “And if it won't ... I'll be a made man for life.”

Chelkash laughed merrily and said:

“All right! Enough of joking, let's go ashore....”

They were in the boat again, Chelkash at the tiller and Gavrila at the oars. Above them was the grey sky, evenly overcast with clouds. The dull green sea played with the boat, boisterously tossing it on its waves, which were still merrily casting bright salty sprays into the boat. Far ahead loomed a yellow strip of sandy shore, and behind them stretched the vast expanse of the sea, furrowed by packs of waves that were ornamented with fluffy white foam. There, too, in the distance, were numerous ships; far on the left was visible a whole forest of masts, and the white houses of the town, whence came a muffled rumble which, mingling with the splashing of the waves, created fine, powerful music.... And over all was cast a thin film of grey mist, which made things seem remote from each other....

“Ekh! There'll be hell let loose this evening!” said Chelkash, nodding in the direction of the sea.

“A storm?” asked Gavrila, ploughing the waves with powerful strokes. He was already drenched from head to foot from the spray which the wind scattered over the sea.

“That's it!” said Chelkash.

Gavrila looked into his face enquiringly....

“Well, how much did they give you?” he asked at last, realizing that Chelkash was not inclined to talk.

“Look!” said Chelkash, showing Gavrila something that he drew from his pocket.

Gavrila saw a roll of coloured bills, and his eyes lit up with joy.

“Ekh! ... And I thought you were kidding me! How much have you got there?”

“Five hundred and forty!”

“My word!” exclaimed Gavrila in a whisper, following the five hundred and forty rubles with his greedy eyes as Chelkash put the money back into his pocket. “Ekh! If only I had as much as that!”—and he heaved a mournful sigh.

“Won't we have a wonderful time, my lad!” exclaimed Chelkash cheerfully. “Ekh, we'll go on the spree! ... Don't worry! You'll get your share.... I'll give you forty. Does that satisfy you? I'll give it to you right now if you want to?”

“If it's not too much for you.... Why not? I'll take it!”

Gavrila trembled with the expectation that gnawed in his breast.

“Oh, you devil's baby! I'll take it, you say! Well, take it, please! Do me a favour! I don't know what to do with all this money! Help me to get rid of it. Take it, do!”

Chelkash held out several bills. Gavrila took them with a trembling hand, dropped the oars and tucked the bills inside his blouse, greedily screwing up his eyes and inhaling noisily, as if he were drinking something very hot. Chelkash watched him with an ironic smile. Gavrila again took up the oars and rowed with downcast eyes nervously, hurriedly, as if afraid of something. His shoulders and ears twitched.

“You're greedy! ... That's bad.... But it's not surprising.... You're a peasant ...” said Chelkash pensively.

“But look what you can do with money!” exclaimed Gavrila, aflush with excitement; and he began to talk rapidly, hurriedly, as if trying to catch up with his thoughts and clutching at words, about life in the village with money and without money, about the honour, abundance and pleasure one can acquire with money.

Chelkash listened attentively, with a grave face and eyes screwed up as if thinking hard. Now and again he smiled with satisfaction.

“Here we are!” he exclaimed, interrupting Gavrila.

A wave lifted the boat and landed it on the sandy beach.

“Well, it's all over now, brother. Pull the boat up higher so that it won't be washed away. They'll come for it. And now we must part! ... It's eight versts from here to town. I suppose you are going back to town, aren't you?”

A shrewd, good-natured smile lit up Chelkash's face, and his whole bearing indicated that he had thought of something pleasing to himself and surprising for Gavrila. Thrusting his hands in his pocket, he rustled the bills that were lying in them.

“No.... I ... won't go ... I ...” gasped Gavrila as if he were choking.

Chelkash looked at him and asked:

“What's ailing you?”

“Nothing ... only....” Gavrila's face was alternately flushed and ashen-grey, and he stood there wriggling, whether from a desire to hurl himself upon Chelkash, or because he was torn by another desire difficult to fulfill, it was hard to say.

Chelkash felt uneasy at the sight of the lad's agitation and he waited to see what the upshot of it would be.

Gavrila began to laugh in a queer way that sounded more like sobbing. He hung his head, so that Chelkash was unable to see the expression on his face; only his ears were visible, and these grew red and pale by turns.

“Go to the devil!” exclaimed Chelkash, waving his hand in disgust. “Have you fallen in love with me, or what? Stands there wriggling like a girl! Or is it that you don't want to part from me? Now then, you boob! Speak up, or else I'll go away!”

“You'll go away?” shrieked Gavrila.

The sandy, deserted beach shuddered at the sound of this shriek, and the sandy ridges washed up by the waves of the sea seemed to heave. Chelkash too shuddered. Suddenly Gavrila darted towards Chelkash, threw himself at his feet and flinging his arms around his knees gave a sudden tug. Chelkash staggered and dropped heavily to the sand. Grinding his teeth, he raised his long arm and was about to bring his clenched fist down upon Gavrila's head when the blow was checked by the lad's shy and plaintive whisper:

“Be a good fellow! ... Give me that money! For the sake of Christ, give it to me! It isn't much to you. You got it in one night.... Only one night, but it would take me years.... Give it to me, and I will pray for you! Always.... In three churches.... I'll pray for the salvation of your soul! ... You will only throw the money away.... But I, I'd put it in the land! Give me the money! It isn't much to you. You can easily get some more. One night ... and you are rich! Do me a good turn. After all, you're a lost man.... There's nothing before you.... But I.... Oh.... What couldn't I do with the money! Give it to me!”

Chelkash sat on the sand, frightened, amazed and angry, leaning back and propping himself up with his arms, saying not a word, but staring with wide open eyes at the lad who was pressing his head against his knees and whispering, gasping and pleading. At last he pushed the boy away, jumped to his feet, thrust his hand in his pocket, took out several bills and flung them at Gavrila.

“Here you are! Take them ...” he shouted, trembling with excitement, filled with both intense pity and hatred for this greedy slave. And having thrown the money at him, he felt like a hero.

“I wanted to give you more myself,” he said. “My heart was softened last night, thinking of my village.... I thought to myself: I'll help the lad. I just waited to see what you would do, whether you would ask for it or not. But you.... Ekh! You've got no guts! You're a beggar! ... Is it worth while tormenting yourself like that for money? Fool! Greedy devils! ... They've no self respect.... They'd sell themselves for five kopecks! ...”

“Angel! ... May Christ guard and save you! I'm a different man now. ... I'm rich!” squealed Gavrila, in a transport of joy, putting the money inside his blouse with a trembling hand. “You are an angel! ... I shall never forget you, not as long as I live! ... And I'll tell my wife and my children to pray for you!”

Hearing these rapturous cries and seeing the lad's radiant face distorted by this paroxysm of greed, Chelkash felt that he, a thief, a rake, torn from all his kith and kin, would never become a greedy, low, self-degrading creature like this. No! He would never sink so low! ... And this thought and feeling, making him conscious of his own freedom, kept him on the deserted seashore with Gavrila.

“You've made me happy for life!” shouted Gavrila again, seizing Chelkash's hand and pressing it against his own face.

Chelkash remained silent, baring his teeth like a wolf. Gavrila kept on chattering:

“And just imagine! As we were coming here I was thinking to myself: I'll give him, meaning you, one c-rr-a-c-k over the head with the oar ... take the money, and chuck him, meaning you, into the sea.... Nobody would miss him, I thought to myself. And even if he was missed, nobody would worry about him. He's not the kind of man anybody would make a fuss about! ... No use to anybody. Who would stand up for him?!”

Chelkash seized Gavrila by the throat and barked:

“Give that money back!”

Gavrila struggled, but Chelkash's other arm wound round him like a snake.... There was a screech of tearing cloth, and Gavrila lay on the sand kicking his legs, his blouse ripped down to the hem, his eyes staring with wild amazement and his fingers clutching the air. Chelkash stood there, tall, straight, thin, with a rapacious look on his face. Baring his teeth he laughed a staccato, sardonic laugh, while his moustache twitched nervously on his sharp angular face. Never in all his life had he been so cruelly insulted, and never had he been so angry.

“Well, are you happy?” he asked Gavrila amidst his laughter. And then, turning his back on him, he strode off in the direction of the town. But he had barely taken half a dozen paces when Gavrila crouched like a cat, jumped to his feet, and with a wide swing of his arm hurled a large pebble at Chelkash, exclainring fiercely:

“Take that!”

Chelkash gasped, put his hands to his head, staggered, swung round to face Gavrila and fell prone on the sand. Gavrila gazed at the prostrate man dumbfounded. He saw his leg move, he saw him try to raise his head and then stretch out and tremble like a taut string. And then Gavrila dashed off, as fast as his legs could carry him, into the distance, where a shaggy black cloud hung over the misty steppe, and where it was dark. The waves surged up on the sandy beach, merged with it and surged back again. The surf hissed, and the air was filled with spray.

Rain fell at first slowly, but soon in heavy dense streaks, pouring down from the sky. And the streaks wove an entire net of water threads, a net which at once covered the expanses of steppe and sea. Gavrila vanished in this net. For a long time nothing was visible except the rain, and the long body of the man lying on the sand on the seashore. But out of the rain Gavrila reappeared, running as fast as a bird upon the wing. He ran up to Chelkash, dropped to his knees in front of him and turned him over on the sand. His hand came in contact with something warm, red and sticky.... He shuddered and started back with horror written on his pallid face.

“Brother, get up!” he whispered into Chelkash's ear amidst the pattering of the rain.

Chelkash came to, pushed Gavrila away and said in a hoarse voice: “Go away! ...”

“Brother! forgive me! It was the devil who tempted me ...” whispered Gavrila in a trembling voice, kissing Chelkash's hand.

“Go.... Go away ...” gasped Chelkash.

“Take this sin from my soul! ... Please! Forgive! ...”

“For.... Go away! ... Go to hell!” Chelkash suddenly shouted, sitting up. His face was pale and angry, his eyes were dull and heavy, and the lids drooped as if he very much wanted to sleep. “What else do you want? You've done your job.... Now go! Clear out!”

And he lunged at grief-stricken Gavrila with his foot, but the effort was too much for him, and he would have sunk back to the sand had not Gavrila put his arm round his shoulders. Chelkash's face was now on a level with Gavrila's. Both were pale and horrible to look at.

“Pht!” and Chelkash spat into his hireling's wide-open eyes.

Gavrila wiped his eyes with his sleeve and whispered:

“Do what you like.... I shan't say a word. Forgive me, for the sake of Christ!”

“Worm! ... You haven't got guts for anything! ...” shouted Chelkash contemptuously, and then, tearing his blouse from under his coat, he began silently to bandage his head, now and again grinding his teeth with pain. At last he said through his clenched teeth. “Did you take the money?”

“No, I didn't take it, brother! I don't want it! It only causes trouble! ...”

Chelkash put his hand into the pocket of his coat, drew out the roll of bills, took a rainbow-coloured one from it and put it back in his pocket, and threw the rest at Gavrila, saying: