The voice of a drunken
woman sang hysterically words devoid of sense.
* * * * *
In the dawn's pure light the sea still slumbered, reflecting the
pearl-like clouds. On the headland a party of fishermen still only half
awake moved slowly about, getting ready the rigging of their boat.
Serejka, bareheaded and tattered as usual, stood in the bow hurrying the
men on with a hoarse voice, the result of his drunken orgy of the
previous night.
"Where are the oars, Vassili?"
Vassili, moody as a dark autumn day, was arranging the net at the bottom
of the boat. Serejka watched him and, when he looked his way, smacked
his lips, signifying that he wanted to drink.
"Have you any brandy," he asked.
"Yes," growled Vassili.
"Good. I'll take a nip when they've gone."
"Is all ready?" cried the fishermen.
"Let go!" commanded Serejka, jumping to the ground. "Be careful. Go
far out so as not to entangle the net."
The big boat slid down the greased planks to the water, and the
fishermen, jumping in as it went, seized the oars, ready to strike the
water directly she was afloat. Then with a big splash the graceful bark
forged ahead through the great plain of luminous water.
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