Текст книги "Рыжик-мореплаватель / Ginger, the sailor"

24. Krugosvetov and Others

Any ship has a pilot house whence one can see everything that is going on in front and behind – on deck and in the open sea. There is always somebody in charge beside the steersman in the pilot house and during a storm it is Captain himself that is on watch. He is walking back and forth, casts glances at the clever instruments which can see oncoming ships and sharp reefs through fogs, darkness and water mass, gives orders to his mates and at the same time does not forget to keep an eye on deck: is everything all right there?

Well, when the storm was especially strong, Captain Krugosvetov noticed a lean sailor’s figure run aft to and fro just between two waves flooding the deck.

"Who dared do it?" shouted Captain in a terrifying voice. "Boatswain! Which of your crew is strolling about the deck in such a storm? Are they dicing with death? Greenhorns!"

"I’ll check it up, Cap!"

"If he’s washed overboard where shall we search for him?"

And Captain let loose such a strong sea phrase that even Boatswain hemmed with respect.

But there was no reason to blame the youth. It was the veteran sailor Serga who darted out on deck violating all the orders at the most dangerous moment and took off the little sparrow from his perch. Thrusting the wet bundle closer to his chest, Serga was fortunate to avoid the coming wave and slipped into the cabin.

He was immediately surrounded by other sailors.

"So what? Is he breathing?"

"His little heart’s beating."

"An alcohol rub would do him good."

"Aha! And a gulp of a hundred odd grammes."

"Too much. He’ll drown."

"Joking apart, we’d better warm him up, guys."

"The stove in the caboose would ring the bell about now."

"You’d better go and put your bare moon onto it yourself."

But the veteran sailor Serga broke off the argument.

"Forget it, guys… Changa!"

The clever dog looked at her master with a staunch eye.

"Down, Changa! Down!.. Be careful"

He moned apart the dog’s thick fur on one side and put Ginger into the wam place.

"Well done!" the sailors delighted in Changa’s lying motionless.

"Good girl!" the master praised her and ran his hand over the dog’s belly. "Aha, guys… Have we fed her so much today, or…"

"Or?.."

"Or soon there’ll additional staff in our crew."

"You don’t say so!"

"I really mean it. On the beach she, so to say…"

"She did what?"

"I saw her with a Labrador. I didn’t pay attention then but now I understand that they had some love affair."

25. Set Me Free

Ginger was dreaming of his home nest again. His parents had brought so much soft fluff there that he felt extremely hot… and he woke up. He opened his eyes and saw black thick fur all around him. Something warm was rumbling and rocking under him.

Ginger chirped with fear and flew up. There was the black Changa underneath and Serga was sleeping on the narrow bunk… For the first time in his life the little sparrow found himself in a human habitation and he started dashing around the cabin.

"Help! I’m shut up! Ginger is shut up!" chirped he and suddenly saw a round window – just the same window he had seen in his home attic.

Without a second thought Ginger flew towards it, knocked at the glass and started banging against it, yelling desperately:

"Why? What have I done to you, tyrants?"

The sailor Serga raised his head.

"Revived, imp?" he smiled. "Wanna get out of prison?"

"Out of prison with a clear conscience," echoed a second sailor’s voice.

"Those sparrows are so tenacious!" said a third one.

"Alive! Alive!" chirped Ginger and the cockpit vibrated with laughter – so opportune was his chirp.

Serga opened the door and waved his hand:

"Changa! And you, Ginger! Get out of here! That’s it. You’ve basked enough."

It was still wet on deck, but the hot tropical sun had already appeared from behind the clouds, everywhere one could see there was the azure ocean and it was impossible to believe that only yesterday the same ocean was roaring and boiling, and leaden-coloured waves were heaving ferociously.

Ginger flew up to the mast, put his wings under the sun beams and started chirping with inspiration. He was singing that life was good, his new house was not a bit worse than his old one, though his parents and brothers were not here, but now Ginger owned a warm dog, a sailor with an earring, this bare iron tree that was called a mast and a feedbox always full of grains, seeds and crumbs…

Ginger was chirping so merrily and loudly that even Captain looked out of the pilot house.

"Who is singing so loudly here?"

"A sparrow," answered boatswain. "He latched onto us in the Black Sea. A ginger rascal."

"Oh, yes, I remember… Won’t it leave droppings on deck?"

"No way, Cap! The sailors take care of it. They love the imp!"

"I understand them," said Captain and sighed for some reason. "He reminds them of their home land. But he won’t survive the journey."

"Why?"

"Albatrosses will peck him. Or some terrestrial kite or a wild cat or a bird catching snake… It’s very hard to survive in the tropics."

26. Butterflies’ Island

Once everybody on deck heard a yell «Colombo» and all the sailors rushed to the hand rope to search for the land. Ginger flew up atop the mast and a great distance away where the sun rises he saw a green strip of the land.

"Here it is, India!" said one of the young sailors.

"In fact it’s Ceylon" corrected him boatswain. "But they are quite near. Over the strait".

"The land of tea?"

"Yeah, that’s it. Ceylon tea or Indian tea – these are the best teas. But the island is fabulous as it is," uttered boatswain and assumed a stern air. "Come on, devils, scrub and swab everything bright! Who shall enter the fabulous port?"

"A fabulous ship!"

"That’s it… Get going, rookies!"

And the sailors started polishing unpainted metal so that soon its glitter hurt eyes.

The port in Colombo was overcrowded and noisy. At first Ginger was frightened but then he remembered the markets of his home town, found much in common and was hovering bravely above the crowd.

"Hey, you, carrying the sack," shouted he at the docker. "Pour out a bit for the hungry traveller!"

It was, however, a sheer provocation. Ginger was so well fed aboard that even the spilt white seeds could not tempt him. "If my folks were here!" thought he recollecting his home town. "This is the place! There’s no winter here, a lot of food…"

In the afternoon Ginger joined the sailors who came ashore. They were striken dumb with the splendour of the suburbs. Everything around them was buried in verdure and the lawns between the gardens looked like flowerbeds – so numerous were the bright flowers.

In particular Ginger was amazed at the multitude of butterflies ranging from the tiniest up to the huge ones that were the size of the sparrow.

"Oh my, what a prey!" chirped Ginger. "It’s not known who’ll be eaten!"

Flying higher it saw a strange lake that resembled a checked sheet of paper.

"What’s this? What’s this?" he asked.

"Rice fields." explained Serga to the young sailors. "Rice, fellows, grows in water, like cane. That’s why people make such ponds wandering there knee-deep in the water.

The sailors were moving along the field’s edge, where swarthy Ceylonese were working. Ginger as usually was fluttering up in the air scrutinizing the surroundings with its alert eyes. Suddenly it saw a little motley snake slip down the bank and swim twisting along the rice fields – there where people were working. Our squabbler had not teased anybody for a long time and fell on the swimmer with pleasure.

"Hey, you, a foreign worm!" he cried, flying round the snake, "What are you doing? A long-distance race?"

"Hush! Hush!" hissed the snake pleading but Ginger did not stop.

"Aren’t you hissing, you, an eyed lace! What do you want there? What?"

The peasants heard the sparrow’s loud chirping, looked at it, then at the water… The women screeched, the men rushed to Ginger, mattocks in their hands.

"Help! Help!" cried the sparrow and flew back to the sailors rapidly. "Why? Why?"

But it turned out that the peasants had attacked the snake, not the sparrow. It was very venomous and took vengeance on people for its brood’s death.

"If it had not been for our ginger, the snake could have bitten somebody." said Serga who knew a little of all the languages in the world and translated the anxious peasants’ words to his friends. "They ask to sell our sparrow. Offer much money."

"No way!" replied the sailors with one voice. "We need such a lookout ourselves."

"I’ve answered the same."

The grateful peasants treated the sailors wonderfully well and presented a rice full basket for Ginger. On that day the sparrow deserved another name– The Terror of Ceylon snakes.

27. At the Equator

From Colombo the dry cargo ship went to the South – to Australia. And Serga was upset the ship would pass Madagascar.

"It’s a wonderful island, guys! Not even worse than Ceylon. And what chameleons are there!" the senior sailor shook his head: "It changes its colour before your very eyes! It’s just been red, but on a green leaf it turns green. You can pass it without noticing!"

"Mimicry!" said a young sailor who loved reading very much and knew many difficult words, "Disguise for us."

"That’s it! Disguise!" the experienced sailor was glad to get a help, " It disguises the way neither a predator nor a prey can see it. For example a dragonfly is flying without noticing anything, suddenly – bang! And it’s gone!"

"Does it catch prey with its teeth?"

"With its tongue! It’s got a huge tongue, sticky like glue. Chameleon shoots with it like from a gun. It aims, opens its mouth – whoops – and that’s it! Sniper in a word!"

While Serga was speaking the sun climbed so high as it had never done within Ginger’s recollection. In its hometown it had seen the scarlet sun at day break, bright– red at sunset. At noon the fire ball had got high in the sky but never to the very top. And only there in the very middle of the Indian Ocean Ginger noticed that its dear star of day was hanging above its head – in the centre of the sky to a T.

"What a heat!" puffed the sailors and hid in the shade.

"What did you expect, man? The Equator!" said Serga respectfully, "The very middle of the Earth."

"We are going from the northern hemisphere to the southern one," added the well-read sailor.

"By the way, in old times this occasion was celebrated", grunted Serga, "those crossing the equator for the first time were roped round their waists and trailed under the ship keel from one side to the other. Then the newly initiated treated the old sailors."

"The ships were smaller then," objected the learned sailor. "It’ll take half an hour to trail one under our dry cargo ship."

"Yet it’d be better to plunge you!" kept grumbling Serga, "you can’t break the marine traditions!"

"Well, if it’s needed."

The sailors built a pool of tarpaulin on the deck, pumped sea water into it, and pushed all the novices into the pool– all those who were crossing an invisible in the ocean but so clearly seen on the globe line – the equator.

The novices were floundering in the warm water and did not want to get out. All were enjoying themselves, especially the Newfoundland Changa. The dog was one of the first who jumped into the tarpaulin pool, galloping round it with the young sailors and barking loudly with delight.

It was so hot in the sun that all the rest participants of the ceremony got into the «pool», it burst and the water flows with the swimmers spread all over the deck.

"Mind, you devils, not to be washed away into the ocean," scolded the boatswain smiling in his grey moustache.

Only Ginger did not take part in the collective bathing. It was skipping on the mast chirping loudly but nobody heard the poor little sparrow because of the clamour. Then it flew to the stern, plunged into the bowl with water and started bathing all by itself. The little sparrow was doing it with such ardour that in a minute all the water was on the deck and in another minute it vanished away at all. The sun at the equator feels hot and it drinks water greedily like a huge yellow elephant.

28. Riding a Fishing Rod

The dry cargo ship kept on going. On its way it was accompanied by dolphins, sharks, flying fishes, albatross but all of them dropped behind sooner or later and only Ginger and Changa were inseparable with the crew.

Sitting on the rail, to be closer to the water, Ginger liked to tease the good-natured dolphins.

"What? Caught up? Caught up? It’s not for you, snub-nosed,"– chirped it, and the dolphins smiled merrily, playing tags with the ship.

But then a land appeared ahead and Ginger forgot everything. It liked touring new countries accompanied by its «crew» and looked forward to having a new merry trip.

"Look what’s the ginger doing!" said the sailors, nodding at the restless sparrow. "Wants to go to Australia."

"Well, I don’t know," sighed Serga anxiously, "we are going to visit captain Hank on his farm. But I don’t see how we can take the ginger with us."

Captain Hank was Serga’s bosom friend, they had sailed seas and oceans, but later Hank had settled down on a farm of his own waiting the friend on a visit.

"We have to get there by car. Changa is not afraid of cars, but I have no idea what to do with the sparrow," grieved the old sailor.

"Let’s buy a cage for him in Sydney," suggested one of the sailors. "Canary birds live in cages."

"They are canary birds," argued Serga, "but the sparrow loves freedom. So do I, guys. I can’t deprive my friend of it with my own hands."

The way out was found by Captain Hank, who met the sailors at the port.

"I’ve got a nice long fishing rod in the truck,"– he said when they met on the Australian shore, hugged one another, and Serga told his friend about his concern, "it’ll be a nice perch for your little scamp."

"Are you sure it’ll perch on the rod?"

"It will, if tired."

The farmer drove a truck with an open body, and when the sailors got into it, Changa with them, Ginger got strongly excited.

"What’s it? What’s it?" chirped it, fluttering above the truck. "Why are you doing that? Why?"

"Come here!" beckoned Serga, "we don’t mind."

The sailor stretched out his arm but the little sparrow was an old stager. He remembered his father’s words: "Man is craftier than a cat! You never know what to expect of him." Though the sailors had never harmed the little sparrow he could not let himself be caught by them.

"No way!" chirped Ginger.

"As you wish," said Serga. "Go ahead, Hank! But don’t speed!"

And Ginger saw a terrible creature with round paws called truck driving along an even grey road taking all the crew and Changa out of town. Changa was looking at Ginger and wagging its tail, inviting the sparrow to join.

"Hey, wait! You are not leaving for long, are you?" chirped Ginger and followed the truck. "Was that bad all going on foot? And you, black goggle-eyed crow, you too!"

Hearing a familiar chirping Changa barked.

"Aren’t you barking! You mean dog!" grumbled Ginger, fluttering in the air.

It began to get tired as sparrows are not accustomed to long flights, and our Ginger had so much fattened eating free food on board and had flown so little that it hardly could keep up with the truck.

"Terribly ungrateful creatures," grumbled it. I sing for them for hours. I catch bugs that pester them. And what’s the result? They keep on driving. They don’t even care that I’m going to drop with exhaustion."

Ginger started to go down and perhaps would have fallen, but a long bare stick appeared from the truck’s body inviting the sparrow to sit down on it.

"What’s this? What’s this? "worried Ginger as usually. But it was so tired that perched on the very top of the stick and chirped with relief; "It’s in time! It’s grown up in time!"

"That’s it," said Serga, watching the ginger flyer in the rear-view mirror. "It won’t be shaken off the rod, will it?"

"What a funny man you are!" smiled the driver. "Remember the wind fluttering birch branches with birds perching on them."

29. The Two-Headed Jumpers

The road was plane, the flexible rod wasn’t swinging much and Ginger was enjoying the comfort of his new transport.

"Gr-reat branch, gr-reat!" twittered he. "And there is a lot of greenery all around! There is a lot of greenery!"

The car had been driving along the country road among the wonderful blooming valleys for a long time.

"It’s spring here now" the farmer said, turning back to his passengers. "Your November is like May here."

"Queer!" said one of the sailors.

"Nothing queer. When the sun is rather hot in the northern hemisphere, it’s winter in the southern one. Then vice versa. You have the northern hemisphere, and we have the southern one, Antarctica."

"Is it where penguins live?"

"Yes, exactly. Funny birds, I must say. Besides there are sea leopards, whales, sea cows, seals… And you will never see such crocodiles as Australian ones even in Africa. They are true monsters, honest to God."

Captain Hank was carried away by a conversation with such an enthusiasm that his lorry nearly ram into the herd of wonderful animals, which were crossing the road. They were bushy, big, red with thick tails and huge hind legs. They were pushing from the ground with these huge legs and jumping for such a long distances that Ginger was greatly surprised and flew up higher to be on the safe side. Everything may happen. What if these monsters begin jumping not at length but at height?

Suddenly he saw something that made him choke. One of the long-legged beasts had… 2 heads!

"My God!!!" Ginger cried. "Every man for himself! They are two-headed!"

But not only the men in the car but even Changa didn’t show any anxiety on seeing such a thing. And the sailors’ behavior was even stranger. Instead of fleeing they were laughing, pointing at the monsters and pronouncing a strange word «kangaroo» all at the same time.

Meanwhile the kangaroos appeared on the other side of the road and began… increasing in number, and were doing it so fast that Ginger boggled the mind. A little kangaroo got out of the fur bag on its mother’s belly and at once began jumping on the grass, playing with other baby kangaroos and behaving like all the children hooligans in the world do.

Soon all the kangaroos became one-headed, because the children, which at first had looked out of their mother’s bags, were now frisking on the lawn, and their mothers and fathers were grazing peacefully.

"In Australia we have a lot of different marsupial animals" the farmer said, going on walking. "There are marsupial squirrels, martens, Tasmanian wolves, marsupial bears (we call them koala), and even Tasmanian devils."

"Devils?" the sailors got surprised.

"Exactly, my friends. But I don’t recommend you to meet them. They are rogues at rock bottom."

"It’s good that we are not marsupial." thought Ginger at that time. "How do you like my mother flying with a bag on her belly?"

30. Australian Hospitality

Ginger was a town sparrow and only a couple of times it had flown together with its father and brothers to the closest field to peck ripe seeds. Now on the farm it went crazy with happiness. It could have dinner almost everywhere. Tasty things were seen in racks for sheep, horses, cows, under the rabbit hutches – everywhere.

"Life is in full swing here!" chirped the sparrow tasting the free treat here and there. "Well, man, what’s this?" asked it a sorrel stallion crunching its oats peacefully. "Oats, sir? Ok, let’s peck some oats."

The stallion looked at the shameless foreign sparrow but said nothing.

The hosts of the hen yard behaved quite differently. Ginger did not encroach on their fodder as it had already had dinner at the stallion’s rack but no one wanted to keep up acquaintance with it. Hardly had the sparrow started to play with the chickens when the broody hen rushed at the sparrow and turned it out neck and crop cackling loudly. Looking back Ginger saw a huge turkey running to it with obviously hostile purposes. A grey goose was approaching Ginger from another side.

The sparrow could hardly flutter up onto the fence.

"Very hospitable, very!" chirped it mockingly. "You are welcome when in our part of the world!"

Ginger turned its back on the hen yard’s inhabitants and hardly fell back with horror. In front of it there was such a huge bird, compared with which the poor sparrow seemed a Lilliput in the face of Gulliver. It was hundreds times larger than any hen and even the turkey seemed a chicken beside it. Standing on the ground the Gulliver-bird was looking down at Ginger that was sitting on the high fence. It had a not very large head and a very long bare neck – it was all the sparrow could see.

"Hello!" said Ginger stumbling on the words. "How do you do?"

Instead of answering the bird pecked the sparrow indifferently and the latter flew down from the fence loosing its feathers.

"Help! Help!" cried Ginger somersaulting in the air. "Why? Why?"

It fell into the hen yard’s rack and saw the turkey and the hen rushing to it.

"Gee, such hospitality!" squeaked out Ginger, flying up onto a tree’s branch with difficulty. "Four to one. Is it fair? Fair?"

The hen kept cackling, the turkey mumbling, the goose hissing, and only the Gulliver bird stood silently on the same spot.

"You can’t fly I hope." asked Ginger carefully. "Can you? Then I’ll tell you that you are the dullest bird in the world, though you are as tall as a telegraph pole. But I have seen even taller, you know. I ate leaves of one and the same acacia with a giraffe and fed from one rack with an elephant…There is no comparing to you."

But the giant bird turned its back on Ginger without saying a word and ran away to where the same Gullivers were seen. Only then Ginger could see its long muscular legs and a snowy-white tail.

"Hey, long-legged scare!" cried Ginger: "I wish hungry cats pulled out all your feathers."

Then he turned round to say cutting words to the poultry yard’s inhabitants:

"You, cackler; and you, hisser; and you, mutterer with a snot nose! You should thank me for my kindness today. Or I may call for my sidekick Changa and there’d be nothing left of you to pick up!"

After this he flied up and set off towards the house. He saw the sailors leaving it, and, as judge by their faces, the dinner was quite good. There was Changa laying on the grass in front of the house with an appetizing bone in her mouth.