Through Russia. Максим Горький
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it IS cracking," at length Mishuk replied with a hoist of his ginger eyebrows.
Ossip too scanned the river from under his hand. Then he said to Mishuk:
"Pah! It is the dry squeak of the planes in your own hand that you keep hearing, so go on with your work, you son of a beldame. And as for you, Inspector, do you help me to speed up the men instead of burying your nose in your notebook."
By this time there remained only two more hours for work, and the arch of the icebreaker had been wholly sheathed in butter-tinted scantlings, and nothing required to be added to it save the great iron braces. Unfortunately, Boev and Saniavin, the men who had been engaged upon the task of cutting out the sockets for the braces, had worked so amiss, and run their lines so straight, that, when it came to the point, the arms of the braces refused to sink properly into the wood.
"Oh, you cock-eyed fool of a Morduine!" shouted Ossip, smiting his fist against the side of his cap. "Do you call THAT sort of thing work?"
At this juncture there came from somewhere on the bank a seemingly exultant shout of:
"Ah! NOW it's giving way!"
And almost at the same moment, there stole over the river a sort of rustle, a sort of quiet crunching which made the projecting pine branches quiver as though they were trying to catch at something, while, shouldering their mattocks, the barefooted sailors noisily hastened aboard their barges with the aid of rope ladders.
And then curious indeed was it to see how many people suddenly came into view on the river – to see how they appeared to issue from below the very ice itself, and, hurrying to and fro like jackdaws startled by the shot of a gun, to dart hither and thither, and to seize up planks and boathooks, and to throw them down again, and once more to seize them up.
"Put the tools together," Ossip shouted. "And look alive there, and make for the bank."
"Aye, and a fine Easter Day it will be for us on THAT bank!" growled Sashok.
Meanwhile, it was the river rather than the town that seemed to be motionless – the latter had begun, as it were, to quiver and reel, and, with the hill above it, to appear to be gliding slowly up stream, even as the grey, sandy bank some ten sazheni from us was beginning to grow tremulous, and to recede.
"Run, all of you!" shouted Ossip, giving me a violent push as he did so. Then to myself in particular he added: "Why stand gaping there?"
This caused a keen sense of danger to strike home in my heart, and to make my feet feel as though already the ice was escaping their tread. So, automatically picking themselves up, those feet started to bear my body in the direction of a spot on the sandy bank where the winter-stripped branches of a willow tree were writhing, and whither there were betaking themselves also Boev, the old soldier, Budirin, and the brothers Diatlov. Meanwhile the Morduine ran by my side, cursing vigorously as he did so, and Ossip followed us, walking backwards.
"No, no, Narodetz," he said.
"But, my good Ossip – "
"Never mind. What has to be, has to be."
"But, as likely as not, we may remain stuck here for two days!"
"Never mind even if we DO remain stuck here."
"But what of the festival?"
"It will have, for this year at least, to be kept without you."
Seating himself on the sand, the old soldier lit his pipe and growled:
"What cowards you all are! The bank was only fifteen sazheni from us, yet you ran as though possessed!"
"With you yourself as leader," put in Mokei.
The old soldier took no notice, but added:
"What were you all afraid of? Once upon a time Christ Himself, Our Little Father, died."
"And rose again," muttered the Morduine with a tinge of resentment. Which led Boev to exclaim:
"Puppy, hold your tongue! What right have you to air your opinions?"
"Besides, this is Good Friday, not Easter Day," the old soldier concluded with severe, didactical mien.
In a gap of blue between the clouds there was shining the March sun, and everywhere the ice was sparkling as though in derision of ourselves. Shading his eyes, Ossip gazed at the dissolving river, and said:
"Yes, it IS rising – but that will not last for long."
"No, but long enough to make us miss the festival," grumbled Sashok.
Upon this the smooth, beardless face of the youthful Morduine, a face dark and angular like the skin of an unpeeled potato, assumed a resentful frown, and, blinking his eyes, he muttered:
"Yes, here we may have to sit – here where there's neither food nor money! Other folk will be enjoying themselves, but we shall have to remain hugging our hungry stomachs like a pack of dogs!"
Meanwhile Ossip's eyes had remained fixed upon the river, for evidently his thoughts were far away, and it was in absentminded fashion that he replied:
"Hunger cannot be considered where necessity impels. By the way, what use are our damned icebreakers? For the protection of barges and such? Why, the ice hasn't the sense to care. It just goes sliding over a barge, and farewell is the word to THAT bit of property!"
"Damn it, but none of us have a barge for property, have we?
"You had better go and talk to a fool."
"The truth is that the icebreaker ought to have been taken in hand sooner."
Finally, the old soldier made a queer grimace, and ejaculated:
"Blockhead!"
From a barge a knot of sailors shouted something, and at the same moment the river sent forth a sort of whiff of cruel chilliness and brooding calm. The disposition of the pine boughs now had changed. Nay, everything in sight was beginning to assume a different air, as though everything were charged with tense expectancy.
One of the younger men asked diffidently, beneath his breath:
"Mate Ossip, what are we going to do?"
"What do you say?" Ossip queried absent-mindedly.
"I say, what are we going to do? Just to sit here?"
To this Boev responded, with loud, nasal derision in his tone:
"Yes, my lad, for the Lord has seen fit to prevent you from participating in His most holy festival."
And the old soldier, in support of his mate, extended his pipe towards the river, and muttered with a grin:
"You want to cross to the town, do you? Well, be off with you, and though the ice may give way beneath your feet and drown you, at least you'll be taken to the police station, and so get to your festival. For that's what you want, I suppose?"
"True enough," Mokei re-echoed.
Then the sun went in, and the river grew darker, while the town stood out more clearly. Ceaselessly, the younger men gazed towards the town with wistful, gloomy eyes, though silently they remained where they were.
Similarly, I myself was beginning to find things irksome and uncomfortable, as always happens when a number of companions are thinking different thoughts, and contain in themselves none of that unity of will which alone can join men into a direct, uniform force. Rather, I felt as though I could gladly leave my companions and start out upon the ice alone.
Suddenly Ossip recovered his faculties. Rising, then doffing his cap and making the sign of the cross in the direction of the town, he said with a quiet, simple, yet somehow authoritative, air:
"Very well, my mates. Go in peace, and may the Lord go with you!"
"But whither?" asked Sashok, leaping to his feet. "To the town?"
"Whither else?"
The old soldier was the only one not to rise, and with conviction he remarked:
"It will result but in our getting drowned."
"Then stay where you