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

38. Alive Mountain

A dry cargo ship was navigating to the North, to Japan, passing by hundreds of blossoming tropical islands – the Solomon Isls, Karolina Isls, the Marianas…

"What a deapth here!" said Serga pointing to the board. "It's 11 km. It's called the Mariana Hollow, the deepest place in the world!"

"Is it inhabited?" asked a young sailor.

"Sure, it is." said Serga firmly. "There is life everywhere, guys. There are wild birds and animals in the ice – let's take penguins or white bears. The deserts are inhabited too: snakes, monitor lizards, tarantula… And the deapth, too…. Though it's dark there, the inhabitants adapted themselves to it: the most striking thing is that they have batteries in their bodies and illuminate the water."

"How is that?"

"I'll tell you. There is a goosefish, for example. It puts its fin as a line out with a worm in the end. It's shining and moving just as a true fresh worm. It's not so easy to make it out. Small fish like gudgeons bite it. They want to have a snack but are eaten up instead.

"You don't say so!" the young people were surprised.

Serga felt their irony at times (these young inexperienced sailors know much, easily use the Internet), but pretended to ignore it. It was good to be followed by them.

"There are the Galapagos Isls near America," Serga waved eastwards, "there are such big turtles! They live for 300 years."

His words were soon proved very unexpectedly. The course and bearing indicators located some round object in the water late at night. It was taken aboard. It turned out to be an old giant turtle close to death of starvation.

The doctor examined the patient and diagnosed it:

"It is likely to swallow a plastic bag. Turtles usually have jellyfish. But a plastic bag in the water looks like a jellyfish. Its stomach has been full up with it and the food can't be digested. The turtle will die in a day or two."

"Can anything be done?" asked captain.

"Well, we can try to use long forceps. But I doubt it. I'll need help."

"We'll help you!" assured captain. "Do your best, doctor. An old turtle should be saved."

Some volunteers turned the turtle on its back, opened its mouth and the doctor dared to put his arm with forceps into its gullet. It had been the 3d time he could extract the bag from the turtle's interior. The doctor showed the muck to the crew.

"See it? It's a mere candy bag that had been thrown out into the water, but it could kill such a big animal."

"Burn it down at once!" ordered the boatswain. "Look after the turtle very carefully. What does it need, doctor?"

"Some milk, at first. And some comfort! Let it sleep, poor thing! In the daytime it must be poured with water, so that it doesn't overheat itself."

"I see… Senior sailor Serga!"

"It's me!"

"Do you hear the order?"

"Yes, Sir!"

"Well, forward… You are used to having trouble with the livestock."

Ginger was the first to wake up in the morning. The sailor with an earring as usual was awake. He was sitting on the deck at a big round cobble-stone. No one knew the way it got on board a ship. The sailor was smoking his customary pipe. There was a bowl of milk at the cobble-stone.

"What is this? What is this?" asked curious Ginger. "You drink milk but don't treat Ginger to it!"

Serga usually shared everything he had with the sparrow. But that time he had no intention of treating his friend to the bowl of milk.

"You are so greedy, Serga!" twittered Ginger and flew up to the mast. "Why did he bring the cobble-stone?"

The Sun is hot very early in the morning in the equator. After unwinding the hose, Serga began watering the turtle.

"What an odd fellow he is!" the sparrow wondered at Serga.

But hardly had the sailor moved away, Ginger sat down on the wet stone and began twittering cheerfully from his mountain:

"Whose stone is this? Is there anyone to own the stone? No one? Let it be mine! Mind it! No dog can reach it! (The sparrow has taken offense with Changa since yesterday). I'll call this stone as Ginger Mountain. No one except me has a mountain of his own. It's a splendid landscape of the sea and the bowl of milk from here."

Suddenly the mountain started moving to the bowl of milk.

"What's up? Help!" Ginger got excited and flew up to the mast. "The mountain is alive! The mountain is alive!"

The turtle poked into the bowl to gulp milk. It has a small senile head with sad eyes and four strong sharp-clawed paws.

"Have you come to yourself, little old thing?" asked Serga heartily and slapped the turtle on the back.

"You'll get well now. Milk is a guarantee of health."

The turtle had been fed up with milk, porridge with fruit, watered all the day around and got down carefully as a boat to the water by the night.

"Well?" asked the sailors.

"It seems to be swimming. It is rowing so quickly that can hardly be stopped."

"It's hurrying home to its youngs."

"What youngs are you talking about? It looks like having grandyoungs."

"So, let it go. God bless it!"

Only Ginger protested to letting it free, skipping on the leer and screamed:

"Why? Why? Help! My stone is being sunk!"

The saved turtle started swimming quickly away from the dry cargo ship and soon disappeared.

"Let it live," said the boatswain. "If only some swine didn't throw a plastic bag once again."

39. Sakura-Tree Leaves

The further the dry cargo ship was navigating to the North, the cooler the wind was becoming.

"It's spring in Japan, but it's likely to be snowy in Nahodka." Serga was telling peering at the horizon. "What is there? Do you see Yokogama?"

"Yokohama, Dad," corrected a clever sailor.

"It's too late for me to learn again, my boy." Serga waved away. "It's important for us to reach Japan as soon as possible, to unload the ship, to take the cargo and leave for Nahodka. My friends are looking forward to me."

"Oh, what a happy person you are! You have got friends all over the world!"

"Yes, I do" smiled the flattered old man. "I have been at sea almost 40 years having started as a ship's boy, and got nothing but friends. Someone became a farmer, as Captain Hank did, others are workmen in the port, but I am the only one from the former guard who still goes to sea. That's why my old buddies respect me. Japan met the seamen with amazing color of its coasts – purple and pink. From afar the bright blue of the ocean looked as if it were a big cream cake."

"What is it? What is it?" wondered Ginger as usual.

"The Sakura is blossoming," said the experienced traveler Serga to young sailors.

"Its flower is pink and fluffy, and the leaves are not yet green, but crimson, as those of an aspen tree in August."

"So, they have so much Sakura here?"

"It is a Japanese's favourite tree," said Serga knowingly. "It is like our cherry but the berries are inedible, I tried them."

"So, what are they for?"

"For the soul. Don't you see how beautiful it all is?"

"That's right. You can't draw your eyes away from it."

"That's how it is, man. Not only with his daily bread does man live."

In the port of Yokohama Ginger got acquainted with such a lovely bird that nearly lost his head. They flew to the bushes of sweet-scented Sakura together, and the little grey bird sang a magic love song in her thin voice… But it was time to leave Japan, and the poor little sparrow preferred his empty dry-cargo ship with no branch in it, leaving behind the blooming coast and the inconsolable grey little bird with her thin voice.

40. White Flies

Ginger was beside himself until they came to Nakhodka.

"Oh, much of a ship it is!" He twitted bitterly. "A rusty sink! Neither a bug, nor a spinder, nothing."

And there is so much beauty on the shore now! But with every coming day it was getting colder and colder, until on waking up one morning Ginger didn't recognize his native deck. It was white and fluffy as if someone had covered it with a large carpet during the night.

Strange white flies were flying from the above. Ginger caught one of them– it turned out to be cold and wet, leaving just a drop of water in the beak after it melted.

"Just think!" Wondered Ginger. "It's not real! It is a scam."

Wrapping in a warm jacket Serga stood on the deck and looked in the distance, where Nakhodka was supposed to be. Hearing the sparrow's twittering, the senior sailor looked at the mast with a smile.

"Came back to life, ah?" he winked at Ginger. "Cold, isn't it, pal?"

"White flies, white flies!" repeated the puzzled little bird.

"You haven't seen winter yet, that's it! Does the snow make you nervous? It's not for long, believe me, my friend. Spring has come to us too! In the port of Nakhodka spring came on the day when the gulf of America had cleared from the ice, and the first motor ships hooted the bay with their loud voices. The streams and streamlets were ringing everywhere, dripping snow was shedding off the roofs and the local sparrows were twitting so loudly that Ginger did not even think of competing with them. The fight in Istanbul port was still very memorable for him."

"I'm comfortable here," he reasoned with himself, fluttering from one mast to another. I'm fine, yes, I am. But the unknown city attracted him inexplicably.

"May be, I shall just have a short walk in the port…," Ginger twitted lazily, and flew to the nearest elevating crane. Vigilantly looking around, he reached the port's farthest corner and from the above saw a big smoky-coloured cat. The cat was hiding among the old barrels and was obviously looking out for someone. His body strained as if he was ready to jump, and his tail with a white tiny brush at the end was moving left and right with great excitement.

"I wonder", Ginger thought. "Whom is this shaggy devil watching for? He must have seen a mouse!"

I don't care about a silly mouse, but it would be splendid to spoil the cat's hunting. It was considered a matter of honor among birds.

Ginger sat silently on a high iron container, looked downwards and saw four sparrows pecking a bread crust. In fact, only three fast males were pecking it, but a small shy female got nothing. She tried to come from the left, then from the right, but every time the males snatched the crust out and soon flew away with the rest of the meal. The poor female twitted offensively and began pecking up the tiny crumbs, left after the males' feast, from the ground.

The smoky cat got ready for a jump. His body strained, his eyes were glittering and even his tail stayed motionless for a moment.

"Look out!" Ginger twitted loudly and rushed down like lightning.

The female flew up. The cat hissed spitefully and threw himself on the red lout, but could only snatch one long feather from the air hooligan's tail.

"You will see me, you, lout," the cat mewed vindictively.

"I will get you, red bastard."

Then he looked around at the poor female, who was sitting on the old fish barrel, still shivering from fear.

"And you, skinny, be sure, I will finish you up by the evening – before you kick the bucket., See you, guys!"

"Get out of here!" Ginger twitted. "I hope I'll jump on the rug made of your skin by furriers some day."

The cat moved away, and Ginger asked the stranger with pride:

"Well, did you see me swooping on the giant's back?"

"I did," the sparrow answered sadly.

"Thank you."

"That's nothing! In Australia I was fighting face to face with a local ostrich. And in Oceania I was battling with an enormous tuna-fish."

At that moment Ginger looked back at his tail and saw that he had finally lost the last old feather of which he was sick and tired.

"You must be looking for this," the female asked his holding out the wonderful feather to the hero.

"Oh, no," Ginger said brushing aside proudly.

"I don't value war trophies. I have too many of them."

"So, if you don't mind, I will keep it as a souvenir. For the first time in his life Ginger got confused."

"Sure, as much as you wish. You are welcome. Moreover, mini-clothes are in fashion in the Southern hemisphere now." And he looked back at his tail whose new purple feathers didn't reach its full length yet.

"You must be an overseas prince?" the female asked.

Ginger assumed a dignified air.

"Well, not exactly a prince…But…I have a small house on the Black sea. Three-storied. I live at its top, where there is a nice view on my ship. I travel by it. In Africa I have dinner with elephants; on Ceylon I have tea with Ceylonians. In Australia my dog was given such a huge medal of pure gold!" While «overseas prince» was singing his tales like a nightingale, the poor female was bending, bending down and would have surely fallen down from the height had Ginger not picked her up with his wing.

"What is up, mam?"

"Ah, sorry," twittered the female sadly. "After hearing your stories I felt some giddiness."

"It does happen," agreed Ginger. "I myself sometimes feel giddy if I recollect all my adventures… Sorry, you must really be unhealthy." The female has sighed deeply.

"This cat…, he will really eat me one of these days. Once I shall not be strong enough to fly away from him…"

"But why?" Ginger asked with surprise.

"It is hard for you to understand," twittered the female sorrowfully. "Our winter was so long and snowy…"

"Many sparrows do not survive winter," remembered Ginger his mother's stories about this season.

"So, you are hungry, aren't you?!" he guessed getting ashamed of himself. The poor sparrow could hardly stand on her shaky legs while he was chattering about his overseas feasts. "Will you be strong enough to fly up to that elevating crane?"

"I shall do my best," twittered the female and flew up.

"And now to that mast?.. Come on, hurry up!"

That is how they made their way from the quay up to the dry – cargo ship and finally reached Ginger's rack.

"Welcome!" he exclaimed waving his wing hospitably.

The female looked into the box and her head turned round at the sight of the grains, sunflower seeds, grain crumbs, ant eggs and other bird delicacies.

"Just a little bit," she said modestly. Ginger delicately turned away. After feeding herself, the female sat next to Ginger, rubbing her beak against his.

"My name is Pinochka, Pinny," she twittered gently. "My friends call me Penchi."

"And I am – Ginger," answered our hero. "1 hope you understand why?"

"Because you have magnificent feathers. They are not at all red but the colors of the sun!"

"My mum used to say the same."

41. In a Spring Net

Meanwhile senior sailor Serga handed his shift over and was ready to get ashore.

"Going to the farmer again?" the younger seamen asked him.

"Not exactly, guys!" Serga answered with a smile. "To my old friends. They have their own house and a sauna… I have not been in a sauna for ages!" The seamen winked at each other understandingly.

"Do you think someone would be against? Whistle – and we shall join you in no time!"

"No, fellas, not today," the old man answered with some confusion. "The sauna is too small, there will not be enough room for everybody.

"We could do it in turn…"

"I say «no». That's exactly what I mean."

"O'kay, Serga, we are just kidding. Go alone to your little widow."

The senior sailor only opened his mouth. How do they know about everything? But on the other hand, it is hard to conceal anything from your со – workers during a long campaign, is not it?

"Sea – devils, that's what you are!" The old man grumbled, taking overseas gifts out of the locker.

"When I retire you will remember me, you sure will!"

"No, you should not, Sergey Ivanovich. Go to sea, as long as your soul desires."

The whole mess – room went out to see Serga off. It was an amusing show. In front of the procession there was walking a sailor with a big knapsack behind his shoulders; inseparable Changa was trotting next to him. The grown – up puppies of different colors from charcoal black like their mother to their father's light – grey in spots were hobbling behind her. All of sudden Serga stopped, turned round and looked at the masts of the ship…

"Fellows, has anybody seen Ginger?"

"Maybe in the morning…"

"As for me, I have just seen him… They have flown somewhere together."

"Together?"

"Exactly."

"Not only you like hanging around."

The senior sailor scratched the back of his head.

"That is why he seems to become a frequent visitor to the shore. In Japan he was missing two days and here the same."

"It is Spring, man!"

"Yes, it is."

42. The Lovenest

In the suburb of Nakhodka not far from the bay the young couple chose a safe place under the roof of an old hayloft and started building up a nest for the first time in their life. Neither Ginger nor Pinchi had any experience of this kind. But their parents, grandmother and granddads, as well as millions of other generations of sparrows, who had lived before Ginger and Pinchi, did have it. This precious experience by tiny pieces of nature itself was gained and passed, passed and gained from a sparrow to a sparrow, from parents to children. And now the newly– weds were carrying all the necessary things and constructing their nest, without asking anybody about anything.

Naturally, Ginger was fetching the largest twigs. Having flown under the roof he carefully put one little branch to another, weaving them and checking the firmness of the structure. Pinochka brought lighter details to the construction sight: straws, feathers, pieces of tow and moss and covered her nest with all this in such a way that is really looked very cozy and warm like a feather – bed.

Every evening after work Pinny and Ginger sat down together in their nest, making themselves comfortable and spoke in their bird language.

"Soon you will see, how wonderful it is here in summer!" Pinchy twittered. "The Taiga is not a bit worse than your highly-praised jungle."

"It is dangerous in the jungle," agreed Ginger. "Even a spider can eat you up there."

"A spider?! – Pinchi cried out with amazement. Here it is us who eat them up.

"It is here," Ginger objected.

"In the jungle there can be such spiders, that you should be on the alert at any moment. They are three times our size larger. And eat birds, rascals, so they are even called bird – eating spiders."

"How awful it is!" twitted Pinchi, trembling with fear in her nest. "The most frightening predator here is the tiger, but he lives in the Taiga and doesn't care for little birds, as they say."

"But you should be very careful in the tropics," Ginger carried on. "There even flowers can catch birds."

"Really? How is it?" asked the confused bird.

"It is very simple. Imagine a nice big flower with a little plate full of nectar at its bottom. Once you want to have some water and sit next to the plate but the flower oops! – and closes down. Its petals are very tough and there is no chance of getting out."

"Oh, dear! What do you mean?" gasped the little bird, full of fear.

"It will eat you up with just one or two feathers left behind."

"Do not talk like that, honey before going to bed," whispered the little bird, shaking all over.

"Here in Taiga we also have various monsters – least weasels, sables, ermines, but flowers do not eat birds as long as we live."

"Wait, I’ll show you something else in tropics," Ginger boasted. "You’ll sit near a snake and won’t see it. Their heads are little, less than an acorn, but they can swallow a rabbit."

"How is it possible?" Pinochca got surprised again.

"It’s this way. Their throat is of rubber – it can stretch as much as it’s necessary. It swallows somebody up and sleeps two weeks, digesting.

"And we have a bear – an awful monster, but eats small insects and berries – anything it can find. But if it’s necessary it will kill the cow."

This way they talked before going to sleep and understood each other perfectly, but any man who happened to pass by the mow would say indifferently:

"The sparrows are twittering. I fail to understand what about."

When we hear foreigners talking, we also don’t understand them, do we?

43. The Saddest Ever Story

At that time in the other part of Nachodka Serga was handing the last puppy of his faithful Changa to some good people.

"The only thing I am asking you about is not to beat the dog and it will be your great friend," said Serga to a new comer interested.

The news that the sailor was giving the puppies of "the Champion of Australia" with a medal awarded to "safe hands" spread all through the neighbourhood. Serga sensed a feeling of profound sorrow. But what could he do about that? It wouldn't be allowed to keep that kennel on board the ship, and his parting with Changa would be very similar to death. Furthermore Changa herself was increasingly burdened with raising her grown-up puppies – it's so common for the animal kingdom. Having nurtured their offspring they are dreaming of a new generation.

"Just wait and I’ll have you coupled with a purebred Newfoundland somewhere in America and your puppies will be priceless!" said Serga to the dog devotedly keeping an eye on its master.

At that precise moment the mistress of the house was staring at the sailor sorrowfully.

"Are you leaving after all, Sergei Ivanovich?"

"Holiday-makers leave, but «sea-dogs» put to sea, Lubov Michailovna."

"And when are the "sea dogs" planning to come ashore?"

"I haven't finally decided yet, but this going round the world is likely to be the last. We won't be planning ahead!

"We won’t!"

The next morning a fatal accident would happen. As soon as Pinchy flew out from the roof of the hayloft a sparrow-hawk swooped on its prey and dragged it over to the nest. Ginger was immediately after, pursuing his enemy but what a tiny sparrow could do in the struggle against that sparrow-hawk. The bird of pray gave Ginger a peck and he rolled down with his wings quivering in the air. The bird bumped his body against the ground and lay still for a long time. If the mistress's cat went out at the moment it would grab the birdy without great difficulty. But it did not and Ginger himself had no fall to thinking about it. For the first time in his life Ginger wanted to lose it. Now he wished that the sparrow-hawk had carried off Ginger, but not Pinchy. With a broken heart Ginger picked up a feather and put it in the nest they had been building together so dearly.

Ginger sat on the edge of the nest, then flapped its wings and fearlessly moved to the port leaving the whole city far behind. At that moment there was a fight Ginger was longing for but unfortunately not a single sparrow was on the way.