Nekrasov adventures of captain vrungel read in full. Library of a junior student - the adventures of captain vrungel. Chapter II, in which Captain Vrungel talks about how his senior mate Lom studied English and some private services

Chapter I, in which the author acquaints the reader with the hero and in which there is nothing extraordinary

Navigation at our nautical school was taught by Christopher Bonifatievich Vrungel.
“Navigation,” he said in the first lesson, “is a science that teaches us to choose the safest and most profitable sea routes, lay these paths on maps and navigate ships on them ... Navigation,” he added at last, “is not an exact science. In order to fully master it, one needs personal experience of long practical swimming ...
This unremarkable introduction was the cause of violent disputes for us, and all the students of the school were divided into two camps. Some believed, and not without reason, that Vrungel was nothing more than an old sea wolf at rest. He knew navigation brilliantly, taught interestingly, with a twinkle, and he apparently had enough experience. It seemed that Christopher Bonifatievich had indeed furrowed all the seas and oceans.
But people are known to be different. Some are gullible beyond measure, others, on the contrary, are prone to criticism and doubt. There were also those among us who claimed that our professor, unlike other navigators, never went to sea himself.
To prove this absurd assertion, they cited the appearance of Christopher Bonifatievich. And his appearance really somehow did not fit with our idea of \u200b\u200ba gallant sailor.
Christopher Bonifatievich Vrungel wore a gray sweatshirt, belted with an embroidered belt, combed his hair smoothly from the back of his head to his forehead, wore a pince-nez on a black cord without a rim, cleanly shaved, was obese and short, his voice was restrained and pleasant, he often smiled, rubbed his hands, sniffed tobacco and in all his appearance he looked more like a retired pharmacist than a sea captain.
And so, in order to resolve the dispute, we somehow asked Vrungel to tell us about his past campaigns.
- Well, what are you! It’s not the time now, ”he objected with a smile, and instead of another lecture, he arranged an extraordinary navigation test.
When, after the call, he came out with a bundle of notebooks under his arm, our arguments stopped. Since then, no one doubted that, unlike other navigators, Christopher Bonifatievich Vrungel gained his experience at home, not going on a long voyage.
So we would have remained with this erroneous opinion, if very soon, but quite unexpectedly, I was not lucky enough to hear from Vrungel himself a story about a trip around the world full of dangers and adventures.
It happened by accident. That time, after the test, Khristofor Bonifatievich disappeared. About three days later we learned that on the way home he had lost his galoshes on the tram, wet his feet, caught a cold and went to bed. And the time was hot: spring, tests, exams ... We needed notebooks every day ... And so, as the head of the course, they sent me to Vrungel's apartment.
I went. I found an apartment without difficulty and knocked. And then, while I was standing in front of the door, I clearly imagined Vrungel, covered with pillows and wrapped in blankets, from under which a nose reddened from a cold sticks out.
I knocked again, louder. Nobody answered me. Then I pressed the doorknob, threw open the door and ... I was dumbfounded by surprise.
Instead of a modest retired pharmacist, at the table, deep in reading some ancient book, sat a formidable captain in full dress uniform, with gold stripes on the sleeves. He fiercely gnawed a huge smoky pipe, there was no mention of pince-nez, and gray, disheveled hair sticking out in tufts in all directions. Even the nose, although it really turned red, became somehow more solid in Vrungel and with all his movements expressed determination and courage.
On the table in front of Vrungel, in a special stand, stood a model of a yacht with high masts, with snow-white sails, decorated with multi-colored flags. A sextant lay nearby. A roll of cards, casually thrown, was half covered with dried shark fin. On the floor, instead of a carpet, lay a walrus skin with its head and fangs, in the corner lay an Admiralty anchor with two bows of a rusty chain, on the wall hung a curved sword, and next to it - a harpoon. There was something else, but I did not have time to consider.
The door creaked. Vrungel raised his head, laid the book down with a small dagger, got up and, staggering like a storm, stepped towards me.

- Very nice to meet you. The sea captain Vrungel Christopher Bonifatievich, - he said in a thunderous bass, stretching out his hand to me. - What do you owe your visit to?
I confess I was a little cowardly.
- Yes, Christopher Bonifatievich, about the notebooks ... the guys sent ... - I began.
- I'm sorry, - he interrupted me, - I'm sorry, I didn't recognize. The damned disease knocked out all memory. He's old, there's nothing to be done ... Yes ... so, you say, behind the notebooks? - asked Vrungel and, bending over, began to rummage under the table.
Finally he pulled out a pack of notebooks and slapped them with his broad hairy hand, and slapped them so hard that dust flew in all directions.
“Here, if you please,” he said, preliminarily loudly, with taste, sneezing, “everyone has excellent ... Yes, excellent! Congratulations! With a full knowledge of the science of navigation, you will go to surf the sea under the canopy of the trade flag ... It is commendable, besides, you know, and entertaining. Ah, young man, how many indescribable pictures, how many indelible impressions await you ahead! The tropics, the poles, sailing along the arc of a great circle ... - he added dreamily. - I, you know, raved about all this until I swam.
- Did you swim? - Without thinking, I exclaimed.
- And how! - Vrungel was offended. - Me? I swam. I, my friend, swam. I even swam. In some way the only sailing sailing around the world around the world. One hundred forty thousand miles. A lot of visits, a lot of adventures ... Of course, now the times are not the same. And morals have changed, and the situation, - he added after a pause. - Much, so to speak, now appears in a different light, but nevertheless, you know, you look back like this, into the depths of the past, and we have to admit: there was a lot of both amusing and instructive in that campaign. There is something to remember, there is something to tell! ... Yes, you sit down ...
With these words, Khristofor Bonifatievich pushed a whale vertebra to me. I sat down on it as if on an armchair, and Vrungel began to talk.

Chapter II, in which Captain Vrungel talks about how his senior mate Lom studied English and some special cases of the practice of navigation

I was sitting like this in my kennel, and, you know, I'm tired of it. I decided to shake the old days - and shook it. He shook it so that the dust went all over the world! ... Yes, sir. Excuse me, you have nowhere to rush now? That's great. Then let's start in order.
At that time, of course, I was younger, but not so much as a boy at all. No. And the experience was behind him, and the years. Shooting, so to speak, a sparrow, in good standing, with a position, and, I can tell you without bragging, what he deserves. Under such circumstances, I could have been given command of the largest steamer. This is pretty interesting too. But at that time the largest steamer was just sailing, and I was not used to waiting, spat and decided: I will go on a yacht. You know, this is not a joke - to go sailing around the world on a two-seater sailing boat.
Well, I began to look for a vessel suitable for fulfilling the conceived plan, and, imagine, I found it. Just what you need. It was built for me.
The yacht, however, required minor repairs, but under my personal supervision, they put it in order in no time: they painted it, put new sails, masts, changed the skin, shortened the keel by two feet, extended the sides ... In a word, I had to tinker. But it was not a yacht that came out - a toy! Forty feet on deck. As they say: "The shell is in the power of the sea."
I don't like premature conversations. I put the ship on the shore, covered it with a tarpaulin, and while I was busy preparing for the voyage.
The success of such an enterprise, as you know, largely depends on the personnel of the expedition. Therefore, I especially carefully chose my companion - the only assistant and comrade in this long and difficult journey. And, I must admit, I was lucky: my senior assistant Lom turned out to be a man of amazing spiritual qualities. Here, judge for yourself: he is seven feet six inches tall, his voice is like a steamer, extraordinary physical strength, endurance. With all that, excellent knowledge of the matter, amazing modesty - in short, everything that a first-class sailor needs. But Lom also had a disadvantage. The only one, but serious: complete ignorance of foreign languages. This is, of course, an important vice, but it did not stop me. I weighed the situation, thought, estimated and ordered Lom to urgently master the English spoken language. And, you know, Lom took over. Not without difficulty, but I mastered it in three weeks.
For this purpose, I chose a special, hitherto unknown teaching method: I invited two teachers for my senior assistant. At the same time, one taught him from the beginning, from the alphabet, and the other from the end. And, imagine, Lom did not work out with the alphabet, especially with the pronunciation. Day and night, my senior assistant Lom learned difficult English letters. And, you know, there were some troubles. So one day he was sitting at the table, studying the ninth letter of the English alphabet - "ay".
- Ay ... ay ... ay ... - he kept repeating in every way, louder and louder.
A neighbor heard, looked in, saw: a healthy fellow was sitting, shouting "ay!" Well, I decided that the poor man was bad, called an ambulance. Have arrived. They threw a straitjacket over the guy, and with difficulty the next day I rescued him from the hospital. However, everything ended well: exactly three weeks later, my senior assistant Lom reported to me with a report that both teachers had finished teaching him to the middle, and, thus, the task was completed. On the same day, I scheduled a departure. We were already late.
And now, finally, the long-awaited moment has come. Now, perhaps, this event would have passed unnoticed. But at that time, such trips were a novelty. Sensation, so to speak. And it’s no wonder that in the morning that day, crowds of curious people blocked the shore. Here, you know, flags, music, general jubilation ... I got into the steering wheel and commanded:
- Raise the sails, give the bow, the rudder to the right!
The sails soared, unfurled like white wings, took the wind, and the yacht, you know, is standing. Gave the stern end - it's still worth it. Well, I see that we need to take drastic measures. And just then the tug was passing by. I grabbed the megaphone, I shout:
- Hey, in tow! Accept the end, damn it!
The tug pulled, puffs, lathers the water behind the stern, but just doesn’t rears, and the yacht doesn’t move ... What a parable?
Suddenly something boomed, the yacht tilted, I lost consciousness for a moment, and when I woke up, I saw that the configuration of the shores changed dramatically, the crowds dispersed, the water was teeming with headdresses, an ice cream booth was floating right there, a young man with a movie camera was sitting on top of it and turns the handle.
And under the board we have a whole green island. I looked - and understood everything: the carpenters overlooked, put fresh wood. And, imagine, over the summer, the yacht took root with all its board and grew. And I was still surprised: where did such beautiful bushes come from? Yes. And the yacht is well built, the tug is good, the rope is strong. As they pulled, half the shore and carried it along with the bushes. No wonder, you know, fresh wood is not recommended for use in shipbuilding ... An unpleasant story, to be sure, but, fortunately, everything ended well, without casualties.
Delay was not part of my plans, of course, but there’s nothing you can do about it. This, as they say, "force majeure" is an unforeseen circumstance. I had to anchor and clear the sides. And that, you know, is inconvenient: you will not meet fishermen - the fish will laugh. It is not suitable to swim with his estate.
My senior assistant Lom and I have been busy with this work all day. They were worn out, I confess, pretty much, got wet, frozen ... And now the night has descended over the sea, stars poured out in the sky, on ships they beat a midnight bottle. I let Lom go to sleep, and I myself remained on watch. I stand, thinking about the difficulties and delights of the upcoming campaign. And so, you know, I dreamed, did not notice how the night passed.
And in the morning a terrible surprise awaited me: I not only lost a day of travel with this accident - I lost the name of the ship!
Maybe you think that the name does not matter? You are wrong, young man! A name is to a ship what a surname is to a person. Why, not far to go for an example: Vrungel, say, a sonorous, beautiful surname. And whether I was some Zabodai-Bodailo, or I had a pupil - Gopher ... How could I count on the respect and trust that I enjoy now? Just imagine: the captain of the long voyage Gopher ... Ridiculous!
So is the ship. Name the ship "Hercules" or "Bogatyr" - the ice will part in front of it, but try to call your ship "Koryto" - it will float like a trough and will certainly capsize somewhere in the quietest weather.
That's why I went through and weighed dozens of names before deciding on which one my beautiful yacht should wear. I named the yacht "Victory". Here is a glorious name for a glorious ship! Here is a name that is not ashamed to carry across all oceans! I ordered brass cast letters and fixed them myself on the stern cut. Polished to a shine, they burned with fire. In half a mile, one could read: "Victory."
And on that ill-fated day, in the morning, I stand alone on the deck. It is calm at sea, the port has not yet woken up, after a sleepless night it tends to sleep ... Suddenly I see: a hard worker port boat is puffing, comes right up to me and - bang a pack of newspapers on the deck! Ambition, of course, is to a certain extent a vice. But we are all human, all human, as they say, and everyone is pleased when the newspaper writes about him. Yes, sir. And so I unfold the newspaper. I read:
"Yesterday's accident at the start of the round-the-world voyage was the best way to justify the original name that Captain Vrungel gave to his ship ..."
I was somewhat embarrassed, but, I must admit, did not really understand what the conversation was about. I grab another newspaper, a third ... Here in one of them a photo catches my eye: in the left corner I am, in the right is my senior assistant Lom, and in the middle is our beautiful yacht and the signature: “Captain Vrungel and the yacht“ Trouble ”on which he goes ... "
Then I understood everything. I rushed to the stern and looked. So it is: knocked down two letters - "P" and "O".
Scandal! An irreparable scandal! But nothing can be done: newspapermen have long tongues. Nobody knows Vrungel, the captain of the "Victory", but the whole world has already learned about my "Trouble".
But I didn't have to grieve for a long time. A breeze blew from the shore, the sails began to stir, I woke Lom and began to raise the anchor.
And while we were going by the sea channel, we were shouted from all ships, as luck would have it:
- Hey, on the "Trouble", happy sailing!
It was a pity for the beautiful name, but nothing can be done. So we went to "Trouble".

We went out to sea. I have not yet had time to recover from chagrin. And yet I must say: good at sea! No wonder, you know, the ancient Greeks used to say that the sea washes away all adversity from the soul of a person.
Come on. Silence, only the waves rustle along the sides, the mast creaks, and the shore leaves, melts astern. The weather is fresher, the hawks are walking along the waves, petrels have arrived from somewhere, the breeze has begun to grow stronger. A real sea, salty wind is working, whistling in the tackle. So the last lighthouse was left behind, the shores were gone, only the sea was all around; wherever you look, the sea is everywhere.
I plotted a course, surrendered command to Lom, stood for another minute on the deck and went downstairs to the cabin to take a nap for an hour or two in front of the watch. It is not for nothing that we, the sailors, say: "You always have time to not get enough sleep."
He went downstairs, drank a glass of rum for sleep, lay down on the bed and fell asleep like a dead man.
And two hours later, vigorous and fresh, I go up on deck. I looked around, looked ahead ... and it darkened in my eyes.
At first glance - nothing, of course, special: the same sea around, the same seagulls, and Lom is in perfect order, holds the steering wheel, but in front, right in front of the nose of the "Trouble" - barely noticeable, like a gray thread, rises above the horizon a strip the coast.
Do you know what it means when the coast is supposed to be on the left thirty miles away and you have it right up your nose? This is a complete scandal. Ugliness. Shame and shame for you! I was shocked, outraged and scared. What to do? Believe me, I decided to put the ship on the opposite course and return to the dock in disgrace before it is too late. And then, after all, with such an assistant to swim - you will drop in so that you will not get out, especially at night.
I was about to give the appropriate command, I already drew air into my chest to make it more impressive, but then, fortunately, everything was explained. Crowbar gave out his nose. My senior assistant kept turning his nose to the left, eagerly sucking in air and reaching there himself.
Well, then I understood everything: in my cabin, on the port side, there was an uncorked bottle of beautiful rum. And Lom has a rare nose for alcohol, and, of course, he was drawn to the bottle. This happens.
And if so, then the matter is fixable. In a way, a special case of the practice of navigation. There are such cases not foreseen by science. I did not even begin to think, went down to the cabin and unnoticed carried the bottle to the starboard side. Lom's nose stretched like a compass for a magnet, the ship obediently rolled in the same direction, and two hours later the "Trouble" lay on its previous course. Then I put the bottle in front of the mast, and Crowbar no longer strayed off course. He was leading "Trouble" as if by a string, and only once he took in a particularly greedy breath and asked:

- And what, Christopher Bonifatievich, shouldn't we add sails?
It was a sensible proposal. I agreed. "The trouble" was going well before, but here it flew like an arrow.
This is how our long voyage began.

Chapter III. How technique and resourcefulness can compensate for the lack of courage, and how all circumstances must be used in swimming, up to personal ailment

Long voyage ... What words! Think about it, young man, listen to the music of these words.
Distant ... distant ... vastness ... space. Is not it?
What about "swimming"? Swimming is striving forward, moving, in other words.
So, so: movement in space.
Here, you know, it smells of astronomy. You feel like a kind of star, planet, satellite, at worst.
That is why people like me, or, say, my namesake Columbus, are drawn to long voyages, to the open ocean, to glorious sea exploits.
And yet this is not the main force that makes us leave our native shores.
And if you want to know, I will tell you a secret and explain what the matter is.
The pleasures of long voyage are invaluable, what to say. But there is a greater pleasure: to tell in a circle of close friends and casual acquaintances about the beautiful and extraordinary phenomena that you witness on a long voyage, to tell about those positions, sometimes funny, sometimes tragic, in which the wrong fate of the navigator puts you every now and then.
But at sea, on the great ocean road, what can you meet? Water and wind mainly.
What can you survive? Storms, calmness, wandering in the fogs, forced downtime on the shallows ... There are, of course, various extraordinary incidents in the open sea, and there were a lot of them in our campaign, but you can't tell much about water, wind, fog and shallows.
Let’s say, it would be possible to tell. There is something to tell: there are, for example, tornadoes, typhoons, pearl shallows - you never know what! All of this is amazingly interesting. Well, there are fish there, ships, octopuses - you can talk about this too. But the trouble is: so much has been said about this that before you have time to open your mouth, all your listeners will immediately scatter like crucians from a shark.
Another thing is visits, new shores, so to speak. There, you know, there is something to see, there is something to be surprised at. Yes, sir. No wonder they say: "As the city, the temper."
That is why a sailor like me, inquisitive and not bound by commercial interests, tries in every possible way to diversify his voyage with visits to foreign countries. And in this respect, sailing on a small yacht offers countless benefits.
But what, you know! You got up, for example, on watch, bent over the map. Here is your course, on the right is a certain kingdom, on the left is a certain state, as in a fairy tale. But people also live there. How do they live? It’s interesting to see at least one eye! Interesting? Excuse me, curious, who doesn't order you? Rudder aboard ... and now the entrance beacon is on the horizon! That's it!
Yes, sir. We walked with a favorable wind, the fog lay over the sea, and "Trouble" silently, like a ghost, swallowed space for mile after mile. Before we had time to look back, we passed the Sound, Kattegat, Skagerrak ... I could not get enough of the yacht's driving performance. And on the fifth day, at dawn, the fog cleared away, and on our starboard side the coast of Norway opened up.
You could pass by, but where is the hurry? I commanded:
- Right on board!
My senior mate Lom put the rudder steeply to the right, and three hours later our anchor chain rattled in the beautiful and quiet fiord.
Have you been to the fiords, young man? In vain! Be sure to visit on occasion.
Fiords, or skerries, in other words, are, you know, such narrow bays and coves, intricate, like a chicken trail, and all around the rocks, pitted with cracks, overgrown with moss, are high and inaccessible. The air is filled with solemn calm and unbreakable silence. Extraordinary beauty!
- And what, Lom, - I suggested, - should we go for a walk before lunch?
- Have a walk before lunch! - barked Lom, so much so that the birds rose from the rocks like a cloud, and the echo (I counted) repeated thirty-two times: "Trouble ... trouble ... trouble ..."
The rocks seemed to welcome the arrival of our ship. Although, of course, in a foreign manner, the accent is not there, but still, you know, it is pleasant and surprising. However, to tell the truth, there is nothing particularly amazed at. There is an amazing echo in the fjords ... Is it just an echo! There, my friend, fabulous places and fabulous accidents happen. Listen to what happened next.
I secured the steering wheel and went to change into the cabin. The crowbar also went down. And now, you know, I am already quite ready, I lace up my shoes - suddenly I feel: the ship has received a sharp inclination towards the bow. Alarmed, I flew out onto the deck with a bullet, and a sad picture appears to my eyes: the bow of the yacht is completely in the water and continues to sink rapidly, while the stern, on the contrary, rises upward.
I realized that it was my own fault: I did not take into account the peculiarities of the soil, and most importantly, I missed the tide. The anchor is hooked, holds like a glove, and the water props. And it is impossible to release the chain: the whole nose is in the water, go and dive to the windlass. Where there!
As soon as we had time to batten down the entrance to the cabin, the "Trouble" took a completely vertical position, like a fishing float. Well, I had to come to terms with the elements. Nothing to do about. Escaped at the stern. So we sat there until the evening, while the water began to subside. Like this.
And in the evening, wise by experience, I led the ship into a narrow strait and moored to the shore. So, I think it will be more correct.
Yes, sir. They prepared a modest supper, cleaned up, lit the lights as expected, and went to bed, confident that the story with the anchor would not repeat itself. And in the morning, barely light, Lom wakes me up and reports:
- Allow me to report, captain: it is completely calm, the barometer shows clearly, the outside air temperature is twelve degrees Celsius, it was not possible to measure the depth and water temperature due to the lack of such.
I didn’t immediately understand what he was talking about.
- That is, how is it for "absence"? - I ask. - Where did she go?
- Gone with ebb, - reports Lom. - The ship is wedged between the rocks and is in a state of stable equilibrium.
I went out, I see - the same song but in a new way. The tide has beguiled us, now the ebb tide is joking. What I took for a strait turned out to be a gorge. By morning, the water disappeared, and we stood on solid ground, as in a dry dock. Under the keel there is a gap of forty feet, there is no way to get out. Where to get out there! One thing remains - to sit, wait for the weather, the tide, or rather say.

But I'm not used to wasting time. He examined the yacht from all sides, threw a storm ladder overboard, took an ax, a plane, and a brush. Flush cut the sides in those places where the branches remained, painted over. And when the water started to profit, Scrap threw a fishing rod from the stern and caught fish in the ear. So, you see, even such an unpleasant circumstance, if you take it wisely, can be turned to the benefit of the case, so to speak.
After all these events, prudence prompted to leave this treacherous fjord. Who knows, what other surprises he is preparing? But I am a person, as you know, brave, persistent, even somewhat stubborn, if you will, and I am not used to giving up decisions.
So it was that time: I decided to walk - that means to walk. And as soon as the "Trouble" was on the water, I transferred it to a new, safe place. I etched a longer chain, and we set off.
We go between the rocks along the path, and the further we go, the more amazing the surrounding nature. There are some squirrels and birds on the trees: "chik-chirik", but dry twigs are cracking underfoot, and it seems: now a bear will come out and howl ... There are berries, strawberries. You know, I have never seen such strawberries anywhere. Large, with a nut! Well, we got carried away, went deep into the forest, completely forgot about lunch, and when we realized it, we look - it's late. The sun has already bent down, pulling cool. And no one knows where to go. Around the forest. Wherever you look, there are berries, berries, some berries ...
We went down to the fiord, we see - the wrong fiord. And the time is already by night. There was nothing to do, they made a fire, the night somehow passed, and in the morning we climbed the mountain. Maybe, we think, from there, from above, we will see "Trouble".
We climb the mountain, it is not easy for my complexion, but we climb, we reinforce ourselves with strawberries. Suddenly we hear some noise from behind. Either the wind, or the waterfall, something is cracking louder and louder, and seems to smell like smoke.
I turned around, I looked - and it is: fire! Surrounds from all sides, follows us with a wall. Here, you know, there is no time for berries.
Squirrels have abandoned their nests, jumping from branch to branch, all the way up the slope. The birds have risen, screaming. Noise, panic ...
I'm not used to running away from danger, but here, there is nothing to do, I must save myself. And in full swing for the squirrels, to the top of the cliff, there is nowhere else.
We got out, caught our breath, looked around. The situation, I will report to you, is hopeless: on three sides there is fire, on the fourth - a steep rock ... I looked down - high, even took my breath away. The picture, in general, is bleak, and the only gratifying spot on this gloomy horizon is our "Trouble" - a beauty. It stands just below us, sways a little on the wave and with its mast, like a finger, beckons to its deck.
And the fire is getting closer. Protein is visible and invisible all around. Emboldened. Others, you know, have burned their tails in the fire, so those are especially brave, impudent, it's easier to say: they climb right at us, push, push, just look, they will be shoved into the fire. That's how to make fires!
Scrap in despair. The squirrels are also desperate. To be honest, I’m not sweet, but I don’t show myself, I’m strengthening myself - the captain should not succumb to despondency. But how!
Suddenly I looked - one squirrel took aim, fluffed up its tail and jumped directly to the "Trouble", to the deck. After her another, a third and, I look, - like peas, fell. In five minutes it became clear on the rock.
Are we worse than squirrels, or what? I decided to jump too. Well, let's take a dip as a last resort. Just think, the importance is great! It's even helpful to take a dip before breakfast. But for me this is: decided is done.
- Senior assistant, for squirrels - full speed ahead! - I commanded.
Crowbar took a step, already raised his leg over the abyss, but suddenly he twisted like a cat and back.
- I can't, - he says, - Khristofor Bonifatievich, thank you! I won't jump, I'd rather burn out ...
And I see: a man will really burn out, but he will not jump. Natural fear of heights, a kind of illness ... Well, what can I do! Do not abandon poor Loma!
Another would be confused in my place, but I am not. I found a way out.
I had binoculars with me. Excellent marine binoculars with 12x zoom. I ordered Lom to put the binoculars over his eyes, brought him to the edge of the cliff and in a stern voice asked:
- Chief mate, how many squirrels do you have on deck?
Crowbar began to count:
- One, two, three, four, five ...
- Set aside! I shouted. - Take it without counting, drive it into the hold!
Here the sense of duty prevailed over the consciousness of danger, and the binoculars, whatever you say, helped: they brought the deck closer. The crowbar calmly stepped into the abyss ...

I looked after - only the spray rose in a column. A minute later, my senior mate Lom climbed aboard and began to drive the squirrels.
Then I followed the same path. But, you know, it's easier for me: I'm a seasoned person, I can do it without binoculars.
And you, young man, take this lesson into account, it will come in handy on occasion: if you are going, for example, to jump with a parachute, be sure to take binoculars, albeit inferior, of some kind, but still, you know, somehow easier, not so high.
Well, I jumped off. I surfaced. I climbed on deck too. I wanted to help Lom, but he is a quick guy, he did it alone. Before I had time to catch my breath, he had already slammed the hatch, stood up to the front and reported:
- Accepted without counting a full load of squirrels alive! What orders will follow?
Here, you know, you will think about the orders.
For the first time it is clear to raise the anchor, set the sails, and even get away from this burning mountain. Well, to the devil, this fiord. There is nothing more to see here, and besides, it got hot ... So on this issue I had no doubts. But what to do with proteins? Here, you know, the situation is worse. The devil knows what to do with them? Well, they drove them into the hold on time, otherwise, you know, the worthless animals got hungry and began to gnaw on the tackle. Just a little more - and put all the rigging.
Well, of course, you could peel the skins off the squirrels and hand them over at any port. The fur is valuable, solid. The operation could be carried out not without benefit. But this is somehow not good; they saved us, in any case showed the way to salvation, and we are their last skins! It's not in my rules. On the other hand, taking this whole company with you around the world is also not a pleasant pleasure. After all, this means feeding, watering, caring. But what about - this is the law: accepted passengers - create conditions. Here, you know, you will not end up with a hassle.
Well, I decided this: we'll figure it out at home. And we, the sailors, where is the house? In the sea. Makarov, Admiral, remember how he said: "At sea means at home." Here I am. Okay, I think we'll go out to sea, and then we'll think about it. As a last resort, we will ask for instructions at the port of departure. Yes, sir.
So let's go. Come on. We meet with fishermen and steamers. Okay! And in the evening the breeze got stronger, a real storm began - ten points. The sea is raging. How it lifts our "Trouble", how it throws it down! ... The tackle groans, the mast creaks. The squirrels in the hold were rocked out of habit, and I am glad: “My trouble” is doing well, passing the storm exam for five plus. And Lom is a hero: he put on a southwest jacket, stands like a glove at the helm and holds the steering wheel with a firm hand. Well, I stood still, looked, admired the raging elements and went to my cabin. He sat down at the table, turned on the receiver, put on the headphones and listened to what was happening on the air.
The radio is a wonderful thing. Press a button, turn the handle, and now, everything is at your service: music, the weather for tomorrow, the latest news. Others, you know, are sick about football - so too, if you please: “Blow! Another blow! ... And the goalkeeper takes the ball out of the net ... "In a word, it's not for me to tell you: radio is a great thing! But that time I somehow got it wrong. I caught Moscow, tuned in, I heard: "Ivan ... Roman ... Konstantin ... Ulyana ... Tatiana ... Semyon ... Cyril ..." - as if you came to visit and meet. Don't listen directly. And I also had a tooth with a hollow, something ached ... it must have been after bathing - it hurt so much, even crying.
Well, I decided to lie down, rest. I completely took off my headphones, suddenly I hear: no way, SOS? He listened: "T-T-T ... Ta, Ta, Ta, T-T-T ..." So it is: a distress signal. The ship is dying, and here somewhere, close. I froze, I catch every sound, I want to know in more detail: where? what? At this time, a wave rolled over, but gave in to the "Trouble" so much that she, poor thing, completely went on board. The squirrels howled. But that would be nothing. Here it turned out much worse: the receiver jumped off the table, fell off, you know, banging on the bulkhead and flew into pieces. And I see: you cannot collect. The transmission, of course, was cut off with a knife. And such a heavy feeling: someone is in distress nearby, but where, who is unknown.
We have to go to help out, but where to go - who knows? And the tooth ached even worse.
And just imagine: it was he who helped me out! Without thinking twice, I grab the end of the antenna - and right into the tooth, into the hollow. The pain is hellish, sparks fell from the eyes, but the reception was again improved. Music, however, is not heard, but I must confess that there is music here and to nothing. What music is there! But Morse code, on the other hand, could not be better: a dot - pricks imperceptibly, like a pin, and only a dash - exactly who is screwing the screw there. And no amplifier is needed, and no adjustment - a sick tooth with a hollow already has high sensitivity. It's hard to endure, of course, but what can you do: in such a situation you have to sacrifice yourself.

And, believe me, I accepted the whole transmission to the end.
He wrote down, disassembled, translated. It turns out that a Norwegian sailing ship suffered an accident almost next to us: it ran aground on Doggerbank, got a hole, and is about to sink.
There is no time to think, we must go to help out. I forgot about the toothache and began to dispose of salvation myself. He climbed onto the deck and stood at the helm.
Come on. The night is all around, the sea is cold, the waves are whipping, the wind is whistling ...
Well, about half an hour passed, found the Norwegians, lit them with rockets. I see it's rubbish. Tightly, side by side, if you don't, you will break. Their boats were blown away, and at the ends it is also risky to drag people in such weather: you will overheat, what good.
I went in on one side, went in on the other - nothing comes of it. And the storm broke out more than ever. As the wave rolls over this boat, it is not visible at all. Rolls over the deck, some masts stick out ... Stop, I think this is in our favor.
I decided to take a chance. He went into the wind, turned the overstag and, together with the wave, on all sails went fordewind at full speed.
The calculation here was the simplest: the "Beda" has a small draft, and the waves are like mountains. Let us stay on the ridge - we will just slip over the deck.
Well, you know, the Norwegians are already desperate, and I'm right there. I stand in the steering wheel, adjust so as not to hook on the masts, and Crowbar catches the victims right by the collar, two at a time. Eight times they walked like this and pulled everyone out - sixteen people led by the captain.
The captain was a little offended: he was supposed to be the last one to leave the ship, but Crowbar, in a hurry and in the dark, could not make out, picked him up first. It turned out ugly, of course, well, nothing, it happens ... And just removed the last pair, I see - the ninth shaft is rolling. He flew in, hooted - only chips flew from the unfortunate boat.
The Norwegians have taken off their hats, they stand trembling on the deck. Well, and we looked ... Then we turned around, lay down on the course and went at full speed back to Norway.
The deck is cramped - you can't turn around, but the Norwegians are nothing, even happy. And it's understandable: of course, it's cramped and cold, but everything is better than swimming in such weather.
Yes ... I helped out, saved the Norwegians. So much for the "Trouble"! For whom it is trouble, for whom it is wonderful, so to speak, deliverance from death.
And all the resourcefulness! On a long voyage, young man, if you want to be a good captain, never miss a single opportunity, use everything for the good of the cause, even personal indisposition, if the opportunity presents itself. That's it!

Chapter IV. On the mores of the Scandinavian peoples, on the mispronunciation of some geographical names and on the use of squirrels in maritime affairs

We came back to Norway, to the city of Stavanger. These sailors turned out to be noble people and received us magnificently.
Loma and I were placed in the best hotel, the yacht was painted with the most expensive paint at our own expense. Why is there a yacht - the squirrels were not forgotten either: they wrote out documents for them, issued them as cargo, and then they come and ask:
- What will you order to feed your cute animals?
And what to feed them with? I don't understand anything in this matter, I've never bred squirrels. I asked Lom, he says:
- I will not say for sure, but, I remember, nuts and pine cones.
And now, can you imagine what an accident: I am fluently explaining myself in Norwegian, but I forgot these two words. They are spinning on the tongue, but I can't remember. How lost. Thought, thought, what to do? So he came up with it: he sent Loma along with the Norwegians to the grocery store.
- Look, - I say, - maybe you will find something suitable.
He went. Then he returned, reported that everything was in order: he found, they say, and nuts and cones. I must admit that I was somewhat surprised that the shop sells cones, but, you know, in a foreign country that does not happen! Maybe, I think, for samovars or, there, to decorate Christmas trees, you never know for what?
And in the evening I come to the "Trouble" - to see how the coloring is going, looked into the hold to the squirrels - and so that you think! The crowbar was wrong, but what a lucky mistake!
I look - my squirrels are sitting, like on name days, and they are eating nut halva by both cheeks. Halva in jars, and on each, on the lid, a walnut is painted. And with cones it is even better: instead of cones, they brought pineapples. Well, indeed, who does not know, it can easily be confused. Pineapples, however, are larger in size, otherwise similar, and the smell is the same. The scrap there, in the shop, as I saw, poked my finger back and forth - that's how it happened.
Well, they began to take us to theaters, museums, to show various sights. They showed, by the way, a live horse. This is very rare for them. They drive there in cars, and walk even more. They plowed at that time on their own, by hand, so they did not need horses. The younger ones were taken away, the older ones were so dead, and those who stayed are standing in zoos, chewing hay and dreaming.
And if they take the horse out for a walk, a crowd gathers right now, everyone looks, shouts, and disrupts traffic. The same as our giraffe would walk down the street, so too, I think, the foreman would not know which light to turn on at the traffic light.
Well, the horse is no wonder for us. I even decided to surprise the Norwegians: I grabbed her by the withers, jumped up, spurred her heels.

The Norwegians gasped, and the next morning all the newspapers published an article about my courage and a photograph: a horse was racing and I was riding it. Without a saddle, the tunic is unbuttoned, flutters in the wind, the cap is lost, the legs are dangling, and the horse's tail is a pipe ...
After that I realized: an unimportant photo, unworthy of a sailor, but then, in the heat of the moment, I did not pay attention and was also pleased.
And the Norwegians were satisfied.
Generally speaking, this country is pleasant. And the people there are good, such, you know, quiet people, friendly, good-natured.
I have been there, in Norway, more than once, of course, and have been before, and from a young age, I remember, I had such a case.
We landed at one port, and from there my path lay by rail.
Well, I come to the station. The train is not coming soon. To be honest, walking with suitcases is difficult and inconvenient.
I found the head of the station, I ask:
- Where is your luggage room?
And the boss, a nice old man, threw up his hands.
“Sorry,” he says, “we don't have a special room for storing hand luggage. But that's okay, you, - he says, - do not hesitate, leave, here are your suitcases, they will not interfere with anyone, I assure you ...
That's it. And recently my friend arrived from there. Just imagine, a suitcase was taken from his compartment on the train. But what can I say: a lot has changed both in manners and in treatment. Well, you know: the Germans were there during the war - they were establishing a new order. And now various enlighteners visit the country, raise the way of life to the proper height. Well, and, of course, the people have taken care of themselves, they have become quicker. Now, even there they understand that where it is bad. Culture!
Well, at that time they still lived there the old fashioned way. We lived quietly. But not all. There were also then in Norway people, so to speak, advanced, who tasted of the tree of knowledge of good and evil. For example, the owners of large shops, establishments, factories. Even then they understood where something was bad.
And this also affected me in the most, so to speak, direct way. There is one firm there - it produces telephones, radios ... So, these manufacturers got wind of my tooth and got worried. And it's understandable: after all, if everyone starts to accept it, no one will buy receivers. What a damage! Here you will worry. Well, they decided without thinking twice to take possession of my invention, and my tooth at the same time. First, you know, it was, in an amicable way, they sent a business letter with an offer to sell my defective tooth. And I reasoned, I think: "Why on earth?" The tooth is still okay, you can bite, but what about the hollow, so sorry, that's my business. I have one acquaintance, he even loves it when his teeth hurt.
“Of course,” he says, “when they hurt, it’s really painful and unpleasant, but when they’re gone, it’s painfully good!”
Yes. Well, I replied that I do not sell a tooth, and that's it ...
So, do you think they have calmed down? No matter how it is! They decided to steal my tooth. Some scoundrels have appeared, they are following me, looking into my mouth, whispering ... Well, I felt uneasy: it’s good, as one tooth, so be it, but how, for fidelity, will be taken away completely, head first? Where am I headless to go swimming?
So I decided to get away from sin. He asked the port of departure for instructions on squirrels, and to protect himself from intruders, he took special measures: he took an oak gangway, shoved one end under the warehouse gate, the other under the cockpit door and ordered Lom to load the "Trouble" with ballast.
The yacht sank to the bulwark, the gangway bent like a spring, with only one edge keeping under the door. Before going to bed, I examined it, checked the readiness of this structure and calmly went to bed. I didn't even put up a watch: there is no need. And so, you know, they came in the morning. I hear cautious footsteps, the creak of a door, then suddenly - fucking! - the gangway jumped out from under the door, unbent ...
I go out and see: my catapult has worked, and how! There was a radio station on the shore, so these scoundrels were thrown to the very top, to the mast. They got caught in their pants, hanging and yelling at the whole city.
I can't tell you how they were filmed - I haven't seen them.
Just then an answer came from the port with an order to deliver squirrels to Hamburg. There was the famous Gadenbeck Zoo, so he bought up various animals.
I already had the opportunity to report to you about some of the benefits of sports swimming. In sports swimming, he is his own master: wherever you want, there you go. And if you got involved with the load, then it's all the same as a cabman: the reins are in your hands, and you carry them wherever they are ordered.
For example, Hamburg. Why would I go there on my hunt! What didn't I see there? Shutsmanov, or what? Well, again, you know, sailing becomes more difficult, all kinds of commercial correspondence, considerations of cargo safety, customs formalities appear, especially in Hamburg ... The people there, unlike the Norwegians, are grated, impolite - and look, they will be ripped off like sticky.
By the way, you know, I don’t understand in any way why it is pronounced so firmly in our country: “Hamburg”? This is wrong, the local people call their city "Hamburg". It sounds softer, and most importantly, it is more in line with reality.
Yes, but once ordered, you must obey. He brought the "Trouble" to Hamburg, put it against the wall, dressed himself neatly and went to look for Gadenbeck. I come to the menagerie. There, you know, there are elephants, and tigers, and a crocodile, and a marabou bird, and this very squirrel hanging right there in the cage. What a squirrel, not my couple! My bums sit in the hold, overeating on halva, and this one has a turntable, and it is there all the time, like a clockwork, like a squirrel in a wheel, it jumps and spins. Take a look!
Well, I found Gadenbeck himself, introduced myself and explained that I had on board a full load of squirrels, alive, at a reasonable price.
Gadenbeck looked at the ceiling, folded his hands on his stomach, twisted his fingers.
- Squirrels, - he says, - are they with tails and ears? Well, I know. So you have proteins? Well, I'll take it. Only, you know, we are very strict with smuggling. Are their documents in order?
Then I remembered the Norwegians with gratitude and laid the documents on the table. Gadenbeck took out his glasses, took a handkerchief, and slowly began to wipe the glasses. Suddenly, out of nowhere, a chameleon. He jumped on the table, stuck out his pagan, licked the paper and was like that. I follow him. Yes, where there!

And Gadenbeck folded his glasses, spread his hands.
- Without documents, - he says, - I can't. I would be glad, but I cannot. We are very strict about this.
I was upset and began to argue. Well, I see, there is nothing to do, left. I went up to the pier, looked - something was wrong at the "Bede". A crowd of onlookers around, on board the schutzmans, customs officers, port officials ... They press on Lom, and he stands in the middle and somehow scolds.
I pushed through, calmed them down, and found out what was the matter. And the matter took the most unexpected and unpleasant turn. Gadenbeck, it turns out, has already called the customs office, and there they picked up an article, accused me of illegal import of livestock and threaten to take away the ship along with the cargo ...
And I have nothing to argue: indeed, the documents were lost, I did not receive a special permit for the import of squirrels. If truth be told, who will believe? There is no evidence, and keeping quiet is even worse.
In a word, I see: it's rubbish.
“Eh,” I think, “wherever it goes! You are so, and I am so! "
He pulled back his tunic, straightened up to his full height and declare to the most important official:
- Your demands, gentlemen, officials, are unfounded, since international maritime laws expressly provide for a clause according to which the indispensable accessories of the vessel, such as: anchors, boats, unloading and rescue devices, communication equipment, signaling devices, fuel and propeller vehicles in quantity, necessary for safe navigation, are not subject to any port dues and are not subject to special registration.
- I completely agree with you, - he replies, - but do not refuse to explain, captain, to which category of the named objects do you classify your animals?
I was at a dead end, but, I see, it's too late to retreat.
- To the last, mister official: to the category of running machines, - I answered and turned on my heels.
The officials were at first taken aback, then whispered among themselves, and again the chief stepped forward.
“We,” he says, “will willingly abandon our legitimate claims if you can prove that the livestock on board your vessel really serves as your propulsion machine.
You yourself understand: it is not easy to prove such a thing. Where there is to prove - time would be delayed!
“You see,” I say, “the critical parts of the engine are on the shore, under repair, and tomorrow, if you please, I’ll present you with evidence.
Well, they are gone. But right there, next to the "Beda", I saw that they put a police boat under steam so that I would not run away on the quiet.
And I, you know, huddled into the cabin, remembered the squirrel that Gadenbeck had, took the paper, compasses, ruler and began to draw.
An hour later, Lom and I went to the blacksmith and ordered him two wheels, like a steamer, and the third like a mill. Only outside the mill step, but we did it on the inside and pulled the mesh on both sides. The blacksmith was quick and quick-witted. Did everything on time.

End of free trial snippet.

Andrey Sergeevich Nekrasov

Captain Vrungel's Adventures

Navigation at our nautical school was taught by Christopher Bonifatievich Vrungel.

Navigation, - he said in the first lesson, - is a science that teaches us to choose the safest and most profitable sea routes, lay these paths on maps and navigate ships on them ... Navigation, - he added at last, - science is not exact. In order to fully master it, one needs personal experience of long practical swimming ...

This unremarkable introduction was the cause of violent disputes for us, and all the students of the school were divided into two camps. Some believed, and not without reason, that Vrungel was nothing more than an old sea wolf at rest. He knew navigation brilliantly, taught in an interesting way, with a twinkle, and he apparently had enough experience. It seemed that Christopher Bonifatievich had indeed furrowed all the seas and oceans.

But people are known to be different. Some are gullible beyond measure, others, on the contrary, are prone to criticism and doubt. There were also those among us who claimed that our professor, unlike other navigators, never went to sea himself.

To prove this absurd assertion, they cited the appearance of Christopher Bonifatievich. And his appearance really somehow did not fit with our idea of \u200b\u200ba gallant sailor.

Christopher Bonifatievich Vrungel wore a gray sweatshirt, belted with an embroidered belt, combed his hair smoothly from the back of his head to his forehead, wore a pince-nez on a black lace without a rim, cleanly shaved, was obese and short, his voice was restrained and pleasant, he often smiled, rubbed his hands, sniffed tobacco and in all his appearance he looked more like a retired pharmacist than a sea captain.

And so, in order to resolve the dispute, we somehow asked Vrungel to tell us about his past campaigns.

Well, what are you! It’s not the time now, ”he objected with a smile, and instead of another lecture, he arranged an extraordinary navigation test.

When, after the call, he came out with a bundle of notebooks under his arm, our arguments stopped. Since then, no one doubted that, unlike other navigators, Christopher Bonifatievich Vrungel gained his experience at home, not going on a long voyage.

So we would have remained with this erroneous opinion, if very soon, but quite unexpectedly, I was not lucky enough to hear from Vrungel himself a story about a trip around the world full of dangers and adventures.

It happened by accident. That time, after the test, Khristofor Bonifatievich disappeared. About three days later we learned that on the way home he had lost his galoshes on the tram, wet his feet, caught a cold and went to bed. And the time was hot: spring, tests, exams ... We needed notebooks every day ... And as the head of the course, I was sent to Vrungel's apartment.

I went. I found an apartment without difficulty and knocked. And then, while I was standing in front of the door, I clearly imagined Vrungel, covered with pillows and wrapped in blankets, from under which a nose reddened from a cold sticks out.

I knocked again, louder. Nobody answered me. Then I pressed the doorknob, threw open the door and ... I was dumbfounded by surprise.

Instead of a modest retired pharmacist, at the table, deep in reading some ancient book, sat a formidable captain in full dress uniform, with gold stripes on the sleeves. He fiercely gnawed a huge smoky pipe, there was no mention of the pince-nez, and his gray, disheveled hair stuck out in tufts in all directions. Even the nose, although it did indeed turn red, became somehow more solid in Vrungel and with all its movements expressed determination and courage.

The door creaked. Vrungel raised his head, laid the book with a small dagger, got up and, staggering like a storm, stepped towards me.

Very nice to meet you. The sea captain Vrungel Christopher Bonifatievich, - he said in a thunderous bass, stretching out his hand to me. - What do you owe your visit to?

I confess I was a little cowardly.

Why, Christopher Bonifatievich, about the notebooks ... the guys sent ... - I began.

I'm sorry, - he interrupted me, - I'm sorry, I didn't recognize. The damned disease knocked out all memory. He's old, there's nothing to be done ... Yes ... so, you say, behind the notebooks? - asked Vrungel and, bending over, began to rummage under the table.

Finally he pulled out a pack of notebooks and slapped them with his broad hairy hand, and slapped them so hard that the dust flew in all directions.

Here, if you please, ”he said, preliminarily loudly, with taste, sneezing,“ everyone has excellent… Yes, sir, excellent! Congratulations! With a full knowledge of the science of navigation, you will go to surf the sea under the canopy of the trade flag ... It is commendable, besides, you know, and entertaining. Ah, young man, how many indescribable pictures, how many indelible impressions await you ahead! Tropics, poles, sailing in an arc of a great circle ... - he added dreamily. - I, you know, raved about all this until I swam.

Did you swim? - Without thinking, I exclaimed.

But how! - Vrungel was offended. - Me? I swam. I, my friend, swam. I even swam. In some way the world's only round-the-world trip on a two-seater sailing yacht. One hundred forty thousand miles. A lot of visits, a lot of adventures ... Of course, now the times are not the same. And morals have changed, and the situation, - he added after a pause. - Much, so to speak, now appears in a different light, but nevertheless, you know, you look back like this, into the depths of the past, and we have to admit: there was a lot of both amusing and instructive in that campaign. There is something to remember, there is something to tell! .. Yes, you sit down ...

With these words, Khristofor Bonifatievich pushed a whale vertebra to me. I sat down on it as if on an armchair, and Vrungel began to talk.

in which Captain Vrungel talks about how his senior mate Lom studied English, and about some special cases of the practice of navigation

At that time, of course, I was younger, but not so much as a boy at all. No. And the experience was behind him, and the years. Shooting, so to speak, a sparrow, in good standing, with position, and, I can tell you without bragging, what he deserves. Under such circumstances, I could have been given command of the largest steamer. This is pretty interesting too. But at that time the largest steamer was just sailing, and I was not used to waiting, spat and decided: I will go on a yacht. You know, this is not a joke - to go sailing around the world on a two-seater sailing boat.

Well, I began to look for a vessel suitable for fulfilling the conceived plan, and, imagine, I found it. Just what you need. It was built for me.

The yacht, however, required minor repairs, but under my personal supervision, it was put in order in no time: painted, put new sails, masts, changed the skin, shortened the keel by two feet, extended the sides ... In a word, I had to tinker. But it was not a yacht that came out - a toy! Forty feet on deck. As they say: "The shell is in the power of the sea."

I don't like premature conversations. I put the ship on the shore, covered it with a tarpaulin, and while I was busy preparing for the voyage.

Captain Vrungel's Adventures

Navigation at our nautical school was taught by Christopher Bonifatievich Vrungel.

“Navigation,” he said in the first lesson, “is a science that teaches us to choose the safest and most profitable sea routes, lay these paths on maps and navigate ships on them ... Navigation,” he added at last, “is not an exact science. In order to fully master it, one needs personal experience of prolonged practical swimming ...

This unremarkable introduction was the cause of violent disputes for us, and all the students of the school were divided into two camps. Some believed, and not without reason, that Vrungel was nothing more than an old sea wolf at rest. He knew navigation brilliantly, taught interestingly, with a twinkle, and he apparently had enough experience. It seemed that Christopher Bonifatievich had indeed furrowed all the seas and oceans.

To prove this absurd assertion, they cited the appearance of Christopher Bonifatievich. And his appearance really somehow did not fit with our idea of \u200b\u200ba gallant sailor.

And so, in order to resolve the dispute, we somehow asked Vrungel to tell us about his past campaigns.

- Well, what are you! It’s not the time now, ”he objected with a smile, and instead of another lecture, he arranged an extraordinary navigation test.

I knocked again, louder. Nobody answered me. Then I pressed the doorknob, threw open the door and ... I was dumbfounded by surprise.

On the table in front of Vrungel, in a special stand, stood a model of a yacht with high masts, with snow-white sails, decorated with multi-colored flags. A sextant lay nearby. A roll of cards, casually thrown, was half covered with dried shark fin. On the floor, instead of a carpet, lay a walrus skin with its head and fangs, in the corner lay an Admiralty anchor with two bows of a rusty chain, on the wall hung a curved sword, and next to it - a harpoon. There was something else, but I did not have time to consider.

The door creaked. Vrungel raised his head, laid the book with a small dagger, got up and, staggering like a storm, stepped towards me.

- Very nice to meet you. The sea captain Vrungel Christopher Bonifatievich, - he said in a thunderous bass, stretching out his hand to me. - What do you owe your visit to?

Chapter I, in which the author acquaints the reader with the hero and in which there is nothing extraordinary

Navigation at our nautical school was taught by Christopher Bonifatievich Vrungel.
“Navigation,” he said in the first lesson, “is a science that teaches us to choose the safest and most profitable sea routes, lay these paths on maps and navigate ships on them ... Navigation,” he added at last, “is not an exact science. In order to fully master it, one needs personal experience of prolonged practical swimming ...
This unremarkable introduction was the cause of violent disputes for us, and all the students of the school were divided into two camps. Some believed, and not without reason, that Vrungel was nothing more than an old sea wolf at rest. He knew navigation brilliantly, taught in an interesting way, with a twinkle, and he apparently had enough experience. It seemed that Christopher Bonifatievich had indeed furrowed all the seas and oceans.
But people are known to be different. Some are gullible beyond measure, others, on the contrary, are prone to criticism and doubt. There were also those among us who claimed that our professor, unlike other navigators, never went to sea himself.
To prove this absurd assertion, they cited the appearance of Christopher Bonifatievich. And his appearance really somehow did not fit with our idea of \u200b\u200ba gallant sailor.
Christopher Bonifatievich Vrungel wore a gray sweatshirt, belted with an embroidered belt, combed his hair smoothly from the back of his head to his forehead, wore a pince-nez on a black lace without a rim, cleanly shaved, was obese and short, his voice was restrained and pleasant, he often smiled, rubbed his hands, sniffed tobacco and in all his appearance he looked more like a retired pharmacist than a sea captain.
And so, in order to resolve the dispute, we somehow asked Vrungel to tell us about his past campaigns.
- Well, what are you! It’s not the time now, ”he objected with a smile, and instead of another lecture, he arranged an extraordinary navigation test.
When, after the call, he came out with a bundle of notebooks under his arm, our arguments stopped. Since then, no one doubted that, unlike other navigators, Christopher Bonifatievich Vrungel gained his experience at home, not going on a long voyage.
So we would have remained with this erroneous opinion, if very soon, but quite unexpectedly, I was not lucky enough to hear from Vrungel himself a story about a trip around the world full of dangers and adventures.
It happened by accident. That time, after the test, Khristofor Bonifatievich disappeared. About three days later we learned that on the way home he had lost his galoshes on the tram, wet his feet, caught a cold and went to bed. And the time was hot: spring, tests, exams ... We needed notebooks every day ... And as the head of the course, I was sent to Vrungel's apartment.
I went. I found an apartment without difficulty and knocked. And then, while I was standing in front of the door, I clearly imagined Vrungel, covered with pillows and wrapped in blankets, from under which a nose reddened from a cold sticks out.
I knocked again, louder. Nobody answered me. Then I pressed the doorknob, threw open the door and ... I was dumbfounded by surprise.
Instead of a modest retired pharmacist, at the table, deep in reading some ancient book, sat a formidable captain in full dress uniform, with gold stripes on the sleeves. He fiercely gnawed a huge smoky pipe, there was no mention of the pince-nez, and his gray, disheveled hair stuck out in tufts in all directions. Even the nose, although it did indeed turn red, became somehow more solid in Vrungel and with all its movements expressed determination and courage.

On the table in front of Vrungel, in a special stand, was a model of a yacht with high masts, with snow-white sails, decorated with multi-colored flags. A sextant lay nearby. A roll of cards, casually thrown, was half covered with dried shark fin. On the floor, instead of a carpet, lay a walrus skin with its head and fangs, in the corner lay an Admiralty anchor with two bows of a rusty chain, on the wall hung a curved sword, and next to it - a harpoon. There was something else, but I did not have time to consider.
The door creaked. Vrungel raised his head, laid the book with a small dagger, got up and, staggering like a storm, stepped towards me.
- Very nice to meet you. The sea captain Vrungel Christopher Bonifatievich, - he said in a thunderous bass, stretching out his hand to me. - What do you owe your visit to?
I confess I was a little cowardly.
- Yes, Christopher Bonifatievich, about the notebooks ... the guys sent ... - I began.
- I'm sorry, - he interrupted me, - I'm sorry, I didn't recognize. The damned disease knocked out all memory. He's old, there's nothing to be done ... Yes ... so, you say, behind the notebooks? - asked Vrungel and, bending over, began to rummage under the table.
Finally he pulled out a pack of notebooks and slapped them with his broad hairy hand, and slapped them so hard that the dust flew in all directions.
- Here, if you please, - he said, preliminary loudly, with taste, sneezing, - everyone has "excellent" ... Yes, "excellent"! Congratulations! With a full knowledge of the science of navigation, you will go to surf the sea under the canopy of the trade flag ... It is commendable, besides, you know, and entertaining. Ah, young man, how many indescribable pictures, how many indelible impressions await you ahead! The tropics, the poles, sailing along the arc of a great circle ... - he added dreamily. - I, you know, raved about all this until I swam.
- Did you swim? - Without thinking, I exclaimed.
- And how! - Vrungel was offended. - Me? I swam. I, my friend, swam. I even swam. In some way the only sailing sailing around the world around the world. One hundred forty thousand miles. Lots of visits, lots of adventures ... Of course, now the times are not the same. And the morals have changed, and the situation, - he added, after a pause. - Much, so to speak, now appears in a different light, but nevertheless, you know, you look back like this, into the depths of the past, and we have to admit: there was a lot of both amusing and instructive in that campaign. There is something to remember, there is something to tell! .. Yes, you sit down ...
With these words, Khristofor Bonifatievich pushed a whale vertebra to me. I sat down on it as if on an armchair, and Vrungel began to talk.

Chapter II, in which Captain Vrungel talks about how his senior mate Lom studied English and some special cases of the practice of navigation

I was sitting like this in my kennel, and, you know, I'm tired. I decided to shake off the old days - and shook it. He shook it so that the dust went all over the world! .. Yes, sir. Excuse me, you have nowhere to rush now? That's great. Then let's start in order.
At that time, of course, I was younger, but not so much as a boy at all. No. And the experience was behind him, and the years. Shooting, so to speak, a sparrow, in good standing, with position, and, I can tell you without bragging, what he deserves. Under such circumstances, I could have been given command of the largest steamer. This is pretty interesting too. But at that time the largest steamer was just sailing, and I was not used to waiting, spat and decided: I will go on a yacht. You know, this is not a joke - to go sailing around the world on a two-seater sailing boat.
Well, I began to look for a vessel suitable for fulfilling the conceived plan, and, imagine, I found it. Just what you need. It was built for me.
The yacht, however, required minor repairs, but under my personal supervision, it was put in order in no time: painted, put new sails, masts, changed the skin, shortened the keel by two feet, extended the sides ... In a word, I had to tinker. But it was not a yacht that came out - a toy! Forty feet on deck. As they say: "The shell is in the power of the sea."
I don't like premature conversations. I put the ship on the shore, covered it with a tarpaulin, and while I was busy preparing for the voyage.

The success of such an enterprise, as you know, largely depends on the personnel of the expedition. Therefore, I especially carefully chose my companion - the only assistant and comrade in this long and difficult journey. And, I must admit, I was lucky: my senior assistant Lom turned out to be a man of amazing spiritual qualities. Here, judge for yourself: height seven feet six inches, voice - like that of a steamer, extraordinary physical strength, endurance. With all that, excellent knowledge of the matter, amazing modesty - in short, everything that a first-class sailor needs. But Lom also had a disadvantage. The only one, but serious: complete ignorance of foreign languages. This is, of course, an important vice, but it did not stop me. I weighed the situation, thought, estimated and ordered Lom to urgently master the English spoken language. And, you know, Lom took over. Not without difficulties, but mastered in three weeks.
For this purpose, I chose a special, hitherto unknown teaching method: I invited two teachers for my senior assistant. At the same time, one taught him from the beginning, from the alphabet, and the other from the end. And, imagine, Lom did not work out with the alphabet, especially with the pronunciation. Day and night, my senior assistant Lom learned difficult English letters. And, you know, there were some troubles. So one day he was sitting at the table, studying the ninth letter of the English alphabet - "ay".
- Ay ... ay ... ay ... - he kept repeating in every way, louder and louder.
A neighbor heard, looked in, saw: a healthy fellow was sitting, shouting "ay!" Well, I decided that the poor man was bad, called an ambulance. Have arrived. They threw a straitjacket over the guy, and with difficulty the next day I rescued him from the hospital. However, everything ended well: exactly three weeks later, my senior assistant Lom reported to me with a report that both teachers had finished teaching him to the middle, and, thus, the task was completed. On the same day, I scheduled a departure. We were already late.
And finally, the long-awaited moment has come. Now, perhaps, this event would have passed unnoticed. But at that time, such trips were a novelty. Sensation, so to speak. And it’s no wonder that in the morning that day, crowds of curious people blocked the shore. Here, you know, flags, music, general jubilation ... I got into the steering wheel and commanded:
- Raise the sails, give the bow, the rudder to the right!
The sails soared, unfurled like white wings, took the wind, and the yacht, you know, is standing. Gave the stern end - it's still worth it. Well, I see that we need to take drastic measures. And just then the tug was passing by. I grabbed the megaphone, I shout:
- Hey, in tow! Accept the end, damn it!

Andrey Sergeevich Nekrasov

Captain Vrungel's Adventures

Navigation at our nautical school was taught by Christopher Bonifatievich Vrungel.

To prove this absurd assertion, they cited the appearance of Christopher Bonifatievich. And his appearance really somehow did not fit with our idea of \u200b\u200ba gallant sailor.

And so, in order to resolve the dispute, we somehow asked Vrungel to tell us about his past campaigns.

Well, what are you! It’s not the time now, ”he objected with a smile, and instead of another lecture, he arranged an extraordinary navigation test.

I knocked again, louder. Nobody answered me. Then I pressed the doorknob, threw open the door and ... I was dumbfounded by surprise.

The door creaked. Vrungel raised his head, laid the book with a small dagger, got up and, staggering like a storm, stepped towards me.

Very nice to meet you. The sea captain Vrungel Christopher Bonifatievich, - he said in a thunderous bass, stretching out his hand to me. - What do you owe your visit to?

I confess I was a little cowardly.

Why, Christopher Bonifatievich, about the notebooks ... the guys sent ... - I began.

Finally he pulled out a pack of notebooks and slapped them with his broad hairy hand, and slapped them so hard that the dust flew in all directions.

Did you swim? - Without thinking, I exclaimed.

But how! - Vrungel was offended. - Me? I swam. I, my friend, swam. I even swam. In some way the world's only round-the-world trip on a two-seater sailing yacht. One hundred forty thousand miles. A lot of visits, a lot of adventures ... Of course, now the times are not the same. And the morals have changed, and the situation, - he added, after a pause. - Much, so to speak, now appears in a different light, but nevertheless, you know, you look back like this, into the depths of the past, and we have to admit: there was a lot of both amusing and instructive in that campaign. There is something to remember, there is something to tell! ... Yes, you sit down ...

With these words, Khristofor Bonifatievich pushed a whale vertebra to me. I sat down on it as if on an armchair, and Vrungel began to talk.

Chapter II, in which Captain Vrungel talks about how his senior mate Lom studied English and some special cases of the practice of navigation

I was sitting like this in my kennel, and, you know, I'm tired of it. I decided to shake off the old days - and shook it. I shook it so that the dust went all over the world! ... Yes, sir. Excuse me, you have nowhere to rush now? That's great. Then let's start in order.

Well, I began to look for a vessel suitable for fulfilling the conceived plan, and, imagine, I found it. Just what you need. It was built for me.

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