Gavrila swung back his oars. The boat shot forward, as if with fright, and sped on at a rapid, jerky pace, noisily cleaving the water.

“Steady now, steady!”

Chelkash stood up in the stern, and keeping hold of the steering oar, he glared coldly into Gavrila’s pale face. Bending forward, he looked like a cat crouching for a spring. In his rage he ground his teeth so hard that it could be distinctly heard, and Gavrila’s teeth, chattering with fear, were no less audible.

“Who’s that shouting?” came a stern cry from the sea.

“Row! Row, you devil! ... Quieter! ... I’ll murder you, you dog! ... Go on! ... Row! ... One! Two! Make a sound, and I’ll tear you limb from limb!” hissed Chelkash. And then he went on in a jeering tone: “Afraid! Booby!”

“Mother of God.... Holy Mary ...” whispered Gavrila, trembling with fear and exertion.

The boat swung round smoothly and returned to the docks, where the ship’s lights crowded in multi-coloured groups, and the tall masts were visible.

“Hey! Who’s that shouting?” came the voice again, but it sounded more distant this time. Chelkash became calmer.

“It’s you that’s shouting,” he said in answer to the distant voice, and then he turned to Gavrila, who was still muttering his prayers, and said: “Well, brother, you’re lucky! If that devil had come after us, it would have been all up with you. Do you understand what I mean? I’d have put you over to feed the fishes!”

Chelkash now spoke calmly and even good-humouredly, but Gavrila still trembling with fear, begged of him:

“Let me go! I ask you in the name of Christ, let me go! Put me ashore somewhere! Ay-ay-ay! ... I’m lost! I’m a lost man! Remember God and let me go! What do you want me for? I’m no good for this sort of job.... I’ve never been on one like this before.... This is the first time.... Lord! I’m lost. I’m lost! Christ, how you fooled me, brother, eh? It’s a sin.... You are damning your own soul! ... Some business....”

“What business?” Chelkash asked sternly. “What business, eh?”

The lad’s fear amused him, and he delighted in it as well as in the thought of what a terrible fellow he, Chelkash, was.

“Shady business, brother! ... Let me go, for God’s sake! ... What do you want me for? ... Please.... Be good....”

“Shut up! If I didn’t need you, I wouldn’t have taken you. Do you understand? ... Well, shut up!”

“Lord!” sighed Gavrila.

“Stop snivelling, or you’ll get it in the neck!” snapped Chelkash.

But Gavrila, unable to restrain himself any longer, sobbed quietly, wept, sniffed, wriggled on his seat, but rowed strongly, desperately.

The boat shot forward like an arrow. Again the dark hulls of the ships loomed before them, and soon the boat was lost among them, winding like a shuttle in and out of the narrow strips of water between them.

“Now listen! If anybody asks you about anything, you’re to keep mum, if you want to keep alive, that is! Do you understand me?”

“Ekh!” sighed Gavrila resignedly in answer to this stern command. Then he added bitterly: “I’m done for, I am!”

“Stop snivelling, I tell you!” said Chelkash in an angry whisper.

This whisper robbed Gavrila of all capacity to think; his mind was benumbed by a chill foreboding of evil. He mechanically dropped the oars, leaned far back, raised the oars and dropped them again, all the time keeping his eyes riveted on the tips of his bast shoes.

The sleepy murmur of the waves sounded angry and terrifying.