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A meaningless yarn.
Chapter II, in which Captain Vrungel describes how Second Officer Lom was learning English, and a few particular cases of maritime practice.
And so, I was sitting there tucked in my home, and eventually, mind you, that became a bore. Thus, I decided for the sake of times bygone to take a challenge and shake these old bones one more time. And shake them I did indeed, my friend - and in such a way that the entire world was shook. Yes siree. Beg your pardon, you aren't in a rush, are you? Wonderful! I shall start from the beginning then.
Back in those days I was, naturally, somewhat younger, but no longer a complete greenhorn either. No sir. There were years and experience on my side. Old salt, on a good account, and, I tell you, not to sound arrogant-like, deservedly so. Under these circumstances I could have gotten a command of the largest sheep in the fleet. And it is quite interesting indeed. But, as it happened, the largest ship was at the time sailing. Thus, patience not being one of my virtues, I said to myself - be what it may, I am going on a sailing yacht. And that ain't a joke, I tell you - sailing around a globe in a small sailboat shorthanded.
And so, I began to look for a vessel fitting to fulfill my plans and, imagine that, found her. Just what I needed, as if built to order.
Admittedly, the yacht required a few improvements, but under my personal supervision the work was done in a jiffy. Paint, new sails, new masts, planking, shortened the keel by 2 feet, upped the topsides. In a word, it was a heck of a job, I tell you what. In the end, though - she turned out a beaut. 40 feet over deck. As the saying goes, a shell at the mercy of sea Gods.
I am not one to spin a yarn before its time. So, I berthed my ship at a wharf, covered with canvas and, in the meantime, began preparations for a voyage.
Success of such an undertaking, as you surely know, much depends on personalities of participants. Therefore, I approached selection of my second in command - a person on whom I would have to rely fully in this long and difficult trip, with utmost care. I was lucky indeed - my first officer Lom turned out a person of most wonderful disposition. Look here - 7 feet 6 inches tall, voice booming like a ship's horn, uncanny strength and stamina. And to top it off, excellent knowledge of all things maritime and quite modest fellow too. In a word - everything that a sailor needs to be. But there was one flaw. One flaw indeed, but a serious one it was - complete lack of command of any foreign language. This is, of course, an important omissions, but one that did not stop me. I considered the situation, weighted pros and cons, mulled it over a bit and ordered Lom to gain a knowledge conversational English in a short order. And, I tell you sir, gain a knowledge he did. Not without some difficulty, but he did it in three weeks.
To this end I selected a unique, theretofore unknown method of education. I invited two language tutors for my first officer. Accordingly, one began instruction from the beginning, the alphabet and such, while the other - from the end. And, imagine if you will, with an alphabet my dear Lom had the most trouble, in particular with pronunciation. Day and night he labored over those letters. And, my dear sir, not without an incident too. One day he was sitting at his desk, mastering a tenth letter of English alphabet - 'I'.
“Ai - ai - ai..” - he repeated over and over in all manner of voice, louder and louder. A neighbor, wonderful lady indeed, made a note of this sound and decided to take a peek. What sees she - our big old chump sitting there, screaming “aye”. She, bless her heart, figured he must not be feeling well - and called an ambulance. Ambulance came quick, took stock of situation and put our lad in a loony bin. To tell the truth, I had trouble getting him out the next day. In the end, though - it all turned out for the best. Precisely in three weeks my first officer Lom reported to me that both of his tutors met in the middle, and as such, the task is complete. That very day I set the departure date, as we were somewhat delayed already.
Finally, a long awaited moment. In our times, perhaps, this event would pass very much unnoticed. But back in those days round the world sailing was not so commonplace. Somewhat even sensational, if I may say so myself. No wonder then that on that day scores of gawkers were lining the shore. There, my sir, were banners, music, and all were having a good old time. I took the wheel and ordered:
- Raise the main, bow lines cast off, hard a starboard!
Sails went up and filled with wind, like great big white wings. And yet my yacht is standing still, mind you. We cast off the stern line - no movement. I could see that a resolute action was needed. As luck would have it, just then a tug was passing by. I grabbed a hailer and shouted to them -
- Ahoy there, on the tug! Take up a line, and lively, damn it!
Tug gave a good yank, steaming, water foaming astern, and looks about ready to buckle - but my little sailboat had not moved a bit. What the deuce?
Suddenly, something gave a thump, my boat listed on a side and I momentarily lost consciousness. Quickly I regain my senses, look about - and see that a shore line profile appears quite different. The crowd has dispersed, water is teeming with variety of headgear, and there floats an ice cream stall, straddled on top of which there is a young man with a movie camera, aimed at us.
And right next to our topside there is a little floating island. One look at this and I knew right away what happened - carpenters botched that one, selected freshly cut lumber for the topsides. And, imagine that, during summer layup my yacht sprouted and rooted itself in a nearby shoreline. And here I was wondering where those picturesque bushes on the shore came from. Yes siree. The yacht is built stoutly, so is the tug, the line is supple. And so they gave good tug and we took with us half a shore with the shrubbery and all. It is no accident that freshly cut lumber is not recommended in shipbuilding. Prodigiously unpleasant story, to be sure - but luckily ended up without injury to anyone.
Naturally, delay of this nature was not in my plans - but this could not be helped. As they say, there are greater forces at work here, unforeseen circumstances. We had to drop anchor and clear up the hull sides. It ain't good seamanship to sail with a garden patch, if fishermen won't say much - fishes surely would laugh us out.
Me and my first officer Lom toiled all day, and ended up wet, cold and hungry. Night descended all over the sea, stars are out, ships bells striking midnight. I let Lom go down below, and stayed up to keep watch. There I am, keeping watch, pondering the highs and lows of the voyage to come. And so, I tell you, I became engrossed in my thoughts and dreams that a night passed as one short moment.
In the morning a dreadful surprise awaited me. I lost more than a day underway with my unexpected mishap - I lost my ship's name!
You may ask what is in a name of a ship? Everything, young man! A name for a ship is the same as a last name for a person. No need to go far for an example - my own surname, Vrungel. Rolls of the tongue, elegant yet forceful. Imagine if I was some sort of a Munchkin-Dobbins. Or, take for instance, one of my students - his surname was Badger. Would it be possible for me to gain the respect and trust I now have if my name was - Badger? Imagine that - captain Badger, commodore Badger! Nonsense!
Likewise a ship. Name your ship Atlant or Aurora - and polar ice will give way upon her mere appearance. Name your vessel Tubby, however, and she will sail like such one, and surely will capsize somewhere in a calmest of calms.
Therefore, after dutifully considering dozens of names, I settled my choice on the one that was worthy of gracing my beautiful ship. I named my yacht - Triumph. A glorious name for a glorious vessel! That's the name I shall not be ashamed to carry through the world's oceans. I ordered bronze letters cast and personally affixed them to the stern. Hand polished and shining like a fire - you could read the name a mile away!
And so on that unfortunate day, at dawn I am standing alone on deck. The seas are calm, the busy port had not quite woken up from slumber, after a sleepless night I am dozing off somewhat. Suddenly I see a workboat steaming by, bear off towards me and as he's passing by - drops a stack of newspapers on my deck. Vanity is, I admit, is not a hallmark of a great seaman. Still, are we not all human, not all given to temptation? Who won't feel just a bit of pride when his name is mentioned in the paper. So, I open a newspaper and what do I read?
“Yesterday's incident at the start of circumnavigation is a fine complement to the unusual name that Captain Vrungel gave to his ship...”
I was slightly confused, but to be honest, did not quite understand what they meant by this. Then I grab another paper and another. One of them has a picture of our departure - myself on the left, Lom on the right and smack dab in the middle our beauty of the ship. The caption reads: “Captain Vrungel on board his sailing vessel Umph, on which he's departing...”
Then it all became perfectly clear! I ran to the stern to take a look - sure enough, there it is! A few letters got knocked off - “T”, “R” and “I”!
What a disgrace! But it can no longer be helped - newsmen had their way, the story's out! No one had heard of Vrungel, captain of Triumph - but the whole world heard of my poor “Umph”.
But I could not spare much time to fret. A light breeze picked up from the shore filling heretofore lifeless sails, I called up on Lom from below and began to raise anchor.
And all the while we were sailing in a shipping lane, from all the passing ships, they hailed us : - Ahoy there, on Umph! Good luck on your voyage!” which did not help a least bit.
Pity on the lost beautiful name, but such is life! If we must sail the Umph - so be it!
I was not quite over the morning's disappointment, as we were going offshore. Though I must admit - it is good to be out at sea. It is for a good reason that even ancients used to say - the sea washes away all troubles from one's soul.
We are sailing. All quiet, only the waves rocking gently, mast creaking a bit from time to time, and the shore is getting farther, disappearing behind our stern. Weather livened a bit, white caps coming up on waves, seagulls flying over, wind picked up. Whistling up in the rigging, working hard - a true salty sea breeze! A last lighthouse behind us - and now the shore is no longer visible, only the endless sea. Nothing but water around!
I set the course, left the helm to Lom, lingered a minute or two on deck and then went down below - to take a nap for a few hours before my watch. As the old saying goes - “you can't ever have too much sleep”. So, I go down below, partake a shot of rum for better sleep, got to my bunk and in an instant was sound asleep.
Two hours later, feeling refreshed and quite cheerful, I come back on deck. Look around, take my bearings and feel as if the deck disappeared right from under my feet! At the first glance - all is well, nothing out of the ordinary - same sea around us, same seagulls, and Lom feels just fine, holding the helm. Yet there, far ahead but right on our bow there it is - a faint line on the horizon, a shore!
Do you know, my dear friend, what it means when the shoreline should be 30 miles to port, yet here it is right in front of you? It's a complete and utter disgrace, a scandal, a total shame for any self-respecting seaman! I was dumbfounded, bedazzled and furious! What am I to do? Believe it or not, I was getting ready to turn about, on reciprocal course and go back to port in shame, least it be too late. With a first mate such as this one - you could be in great trouble, particularly at night far offshore.
I was just about ready to give appropriate orders, and took a big breath to bark my order more loudly for better effect, and right then it all became clear to me. Lom was betrayed by his nose. My first mate constantly held his nose to the left, taking the whiff of the air and his hands followed in that same direction.
Well, that had an easy explanation! You see, in my berth in a cupboard on the port side I left an opened bottle of most excellent rum. And Lom. bless his heart, had an excellent olfactory sense, particularly for stronger beverages so, naturally, he was drawn towards it. Happens to the best of us.
If that is the case - this is easily helped. In some ways this is a particular case of good seamanship practice. Some situations are simply not foreseen by maritime science. I did not lose a moment, went down below and casually moved the rum flask to starboard. Lom's nose followed the smell much like a compass needle follows a magnet, ship duly followed, rolling in the same direction, and in two hours Umph was on her previous course. Then I moved a rum bottle up forward to the mast, and Lom never once lost his bearings from that moment on. He held the helm straight, as if following an invisible line and only once particularly hungrily inhaled, smelled the air and inquired:
- Sir Christopher, shall we not add sail?
That was a most practical suggestion, and I agreed. Until that moment Umph was doing a good time, but with more sail up she flew like an arrow skimming the tops of the waves.
And so, our voyage began.
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