Christopher Bonifatievich Vrungel taught navigation at our nautical school.

“Navigation,” he said in the first lesson, “is a science that teaches us to choose the safest and most profitable sea routes, plot these routes on maps and navigate ships along them... Navigation,” he added finally, “is not an exact science.” In order to fully master it, you need personal experience of long-term practical sailing...

This unremarkable introduction was the cause of fierce 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 in retirement. He knew navigation brilliantly, taught interestingly, with a spark, and he apparently had enough experience. It seemed that Christopher Bonifatievich had indeed plowed all the seas and oceans.

But people, as you know, are different. Some are gullible beyond all 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, himself never went to sea.

As proof of this absurd assertion, they cited the appearance of Christopher Bonifatievich. And his appearance really somehow did not fit with our idea of ​​a brave 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 pince-nez on a black lace without a rim, shaved clean, was corpulent and short, had a restrained and pleasant voice, often smiled, rubbed his hands, sniffed tobacco and with his whole appearance he looked more like a retired pharmacist than a sea captain.

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

- Well, what are you talking about! Now is not the time,” he objected with a smile and, instead of another lecture, gave an extraordinary test on navigation.

When, after the call, he came out with a stack of notebooks under his arm, our arguments stopped. Since then, no one has doubted that, unlike other navigators, Christopher Bonifatievich Vrungel acquired his experience at home, without embarking on long voyages.

So we would have remained with this erroneous opinion if I had very soon, but quite unexpectedly, been 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. Three days later we learned that on the way home he lost his galoshes on the tram, got his feet wet, 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, I was sent to Vrungel’s apartment.

I went. I found the apartment without difficulty and knocked. And then, while I was standing in front of the door, I quite clearly imagined Vrungel, surrounded by pillows and wrapped in blankets, from under which his nose, red from a cold, protruded.

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

Instead of a modest retired pharmacist, a formidable captain in full dress uniform, with gold stripes on his sleeves, sat at the table, deep in reading some ancient book. He was fiercely gnawing on a huge smoky pipe, there was no mention of pince-nez, and his gray, disheveled hair stuck out in clumps in all directions. Even Vrungel’s nose, although it really turned red, became somehow more solid and with all its 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 carelessly thrown bundle of cards half covered a dried shark fin. On the floor, instead of a carpet, lay a walrus skin with a head and tusks, in the corner lay an Admiralty anchor with two bows of a rusty chain, a curved sword hung on the wall, and next to it was a St. John's wort harpoon. There was something else, but I didn’t have time to see it.

The door creaked. Vrungel raised his head, placed a small dagger in the book, stood up and, staggering as if in a storm, stepped towards me.

- Very nice to meet you. Sea captain Vrungel Khristofor Bonifatievich,” he said in a thunderous bass, extending his hand to me. – To what do I owe your visit?

I must admit, I was a little scared.

“Well, Khristofor Bonifatievich, about the notebooks... the guys sent...” I began.

“It’s my fault,” he interrupted me, “it’s my fault, I didn’t recognize it.” The damn disease took away all my memory. I’ve become old, nothing can be done... Yes... so, you say, behind notebooks? – Vrungel asked and, bending down, began to rummage under the table.

Finally, he took out a stack of notebooks and slammed his wide, hairy hand on them, slamming them so hard that dust flew in all directions.

“Here, if you please,” he said, after sneezing loudly, tastefully, “everyone is “excellent”... Yes, sir, “excellent”! Congratulations! With full knowledge of the science of navigation, you will go to plow the seas under the shadow of a merchant flag... It’s commendable, and, you know, it’s also entertaining. Ah, young man, how many indescribable pictures, how many indelible impressions await you ahead! Tropics, poles, sailing in a great circle...,” he added dreamily. – You know, I was delirious about all this until I swam myself.

- Did you swim? – without thinking, I exclaimed.

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

With these words, Khristofor Bonifatievich pushed a whale vertebra towards me. I sat down on it like a chair, and Vrungel began to talk.

I sat like this in my kennel, and, you know, I got tired of it. I decided to shake the old days - and shook them. He shook it so hard that dust spread all over the world!.. Yes, sir. Excuse me, are you in a hurry now? That is great. Then let's start in order.

At that time, of course, I was younger, but not like a boy at all. No. And I had years of experience behind me. A shot, so to speak, sparrow, in good standing, with a position, and, I tell you without bragging, according to his merits. Under such circumstances I could have been given command of the largest steamer. This is also quite interesting. But at that time the largest ship was just sailing, and I was not used to waiting, so I gave up and decided: I’ll go on a yacht. It’s also no joke, you know, to sail around the world on a two-seater sailing boat.

Well, I began to look for a vessel suitable for carrying out my plan, and, just imagine, I found it. Just what you need. They built it just for me.

The yacht, however, required minor repairs, but under my personal supervision it was put in order in no time: it was painted, new sails and masts were installed, the skin was changed, the keel was shortened by two feet, the sides were added... In a word, I had to tinker. But what came out was not a yacht – it was a toy! Forty feet on deck. As they say: “The shell is at the mercy of the sea.”

I don't like premature conversations. He parked the ship near the shore, covered it with a tarpaulin, and while he was busy preparing for the trip.

The success of such an enterprise, as you know, largely depends on the personnel of the expedition. Therefore, I especially carefully chose my companion - my only assistant and comrade on 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 a steamboat, extraordinary physical strength, endurance. With all this, excellent knowledge of the matter, amazing modesty - in a word, everything that a first-class sailor requires. But Lom also had a drawback. 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, figured, and ordered Lom to urgently master spoken English. And, you know, Crowbar took possession. Not without difficulties, but mastered it in three weeks.

Chapter I, in which the author introduces the reader to the hero and in which there is nothing unusual

Christopher Bonifatievich Vrungel taught navigation at our nautical school.
“Navigation,” he said in the first lesson, “is a science that teaches us to choose the safest and most profitable sea routes, plot these routes on maps and navigate ships along them... Navigation,” he added finally, “is not an exact science.” In order to fully master it, you need personal experience of long-term practical sailing...
This unremarkable introduction was the cause of fierce 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 in retirement. He knew navigation brilliantly, taught interestingly, with a spark, and he apparently had enough experience. It seemed that Christopher Bonifatievich had indeed plowed all the seas and oceans.
But people, as you know, are different. Some are gullible beyond all 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, himself never went to sea.
As proof of this absurd assertion, they cited the appearance of Christopher Bonifatievich. And his appearance really somehow did not fit with our idea of ​​a brave 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 pince-nez on a black lace without a rim, shaved clean, was corpulent and short, had a restrained and pleasant voice, often smiled, rubbed his hands, sniffed tobacco and with his whole appearance he looked more like a retired pharmacist than a sea captain.
And so, in order to resolve the dispute, we once asked Vrungel to tell us about his past campaigns.
- Well, what are you talking about! Now is not the time,” he objected with a smile and, instead of another lecture, gave an extraordinary test on navigation.
When, after the call, he came out with a stack of notebooks under his arm, our arguments stopped. Since then, no one has doubted that, unlike other navigators, Christopher Bonifatievich Vrungel acquired his experience at home, without embarking on long voyages.
So we would have remained with this erroneous opinion if I had very soon, but quite unexpectedly, been 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. Three days later we learned that on the way home he lost his galoshes on the tram, got his feet wet, 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, I was sent to Vrungel’s apartment.
I went. I found the apartment without difficulty and knocked. And then, while I was standing in front of the door, I quite clearly imagined Vrungel, surrounded by pillows and wrapped in blankets, from under which his nose, red from a cold, protruded.
I knocked again, louder. Nobody answered me. Then I pressed the doorknob, opened the door and... was dumbfounded by surprise.
Instead of a modest retired pharmacist, a formidable captain in full dress uniform, with gold stripes on his sleeves, sat at the table, deep in reading some ancient book. He was fiercely gnawing on a huge smoky pipe, there was no mention of pince-nez, and his gray, disheveled hair stuck out in clumps in all directions. Even Vrungel’s nose, although it really turned red, became somehow more solid and with all its 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 carelessly thrown bundle of cards half covered a dried shark fin. On the floor, instead of a carpet, lay a walrus skin with a head and tusks, in the corner lay an Admiralty anchor with two bows of a rusty chain, a curved sword hung on the wall, and next to it was a St. John's wort harpoon. There was something else, but I didn’t have time to see it.
The door creaked. Vrungel raised his head, placed a small dagger in the book, stood up and, staggering as if in a storm, stepped towards me.

- Very nice to meet you. Sea captain Vrungel Khristofor Bonifatievich,” he said in a thunderous bass, extending his hand to me. – To what do I owe your visit?
I must admit, I was a little scared.
“Well, Khristofor Bonifatievich, about the notebooks... the guys sent...” I began.
“It’s my fault,” he interrupted me, “it’s my fault, I didn’t recognize it.” The damn disease took away all my memory. I’ve become old, nothing can be done... Yes... so, you say, behind notebooks? – Vrungel asked and, bending down, began to rummage under the table.
Finally, he took out a stack of notebooks and slammed his wide, hairy hand on them, slamming them so hard that dust flew in all directions.
“Here, if you please,” he said, after sneezing loudly, tastefully, “everyone is “excellent”... Yes, sir, “excellent”! Congratulations! With full knowledge of the science of navigation, you will go to plow the seas under the shadow of a merchant flag... It’s commendable, and, you know, it’s also entertaining. Ah, young man, how many indescribable pictures, how many indelible impressions await you ahead! Tropics, poles, sailing in a great circle...,” he added dreamily. – You know, I was delirious about all this until I swam myself.
- Did you swim? – without thinking, I exclaimed.
- But of course! - Vrungel was offended. - Me? I swam. I, my friend, swam. I even swam a lot. In some ways, the world's only trip around the world on a two-seater sailing yacht. One hundred and forty thousand miles. Lots of visits, lots of adventures... Of course, times are not the same now. And morals have changed, and the situation,” he added after a pause. - Much, so to speak, now appears in a different light, but still, you know, you look back like this, into the depths of the past, and you have to admit: there was a lot of interesting and instructive things on that campaign. There is something to remember, there is something to tell!... Yes, sit down...
With these words, Khristofor Bonifatievich pushed a whale vertebra towards me. I sat down on it like a chair, and Vrungel began to talk.

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

I sat like this in my kennel, and, you know, I got tired of it. I decided to shake the old days - and shook them. He shook it so hard that dust spread all over the world!... Yes, sir. Excuse me, are you in a hurry now? That is great. Then let's start in order.
At that time, of course, I was younger, but not like a boy at all. No. And I had years of experience behind me. A shot, so to speak, sparrow, in good standing, with a position, and, I tell you without bragging, according to his merits. Under such circumstances I could have been given command of the largest steamer. This is also quite interesting. But at that time the largest ship was just sailing, and I was not used to waiting, so I gave up and decided: I’ll go on a yacht. It’s also no joke, you know, to sail around the world on a two-seater sailing boat.
Well, I began to look for a vessel suitable for carrying out my plan, and, just imagine, I found it. Just what you need. They built it just for me.
The yacht, however, required minor repairs, but under my personal supervision it was put in order in no time: it was painted, new sails and masts were installed, the skin was changed, the keel was shortened by two feet, the sides were added... In a word, I had to tinker. But what came out was not a yacht – it was a toy! Forty feet on deck. As they say: “The shell is at the mercy of the sea.”
I don't like premature conversations. He parked the ship near the shore, covered it with a tarpaulin, and while he was busy preparing for the trip.
The success of such an enterprise, as you know, largely depends on the personnel of the expedition. Therefore, I especially carefully chose my companion - my only assistant and comrade on 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 a steamboat, extraordinary physical strength, endurance. With all this, excellent knowledge of the matter, amazing modesty - in a word, everything that a first-class sailor requires. But Lom also had a drawback. 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, figured, and ordered Lom to urgently master spoken English. And, you know, Crowbar took possession. Not without difficulties, but mastered it in three weeks.
For this purpose, I chose a special, hitherto unknown method of teaching: 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’s alphabet didn’t work out well, especially with pronunciation. My senior assistant Lom spent days and nights learning 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 - “ai”.
“Ay... ah... ah...” he repeated in every way, louder and louder.
The neighbor heard, looked in, saw: a healthy kid sitting, shouting “ouch!” Well, I decided that the poor guy was feeling bad and called an ambulance. We've arrived. They put a straitjacket on the guy, and with difficulty I rescued him from the hospital the next day. However, everything ended well: exactly three weeks later, my senior assistant Lom reported to me that both teachers had finished teaching him to the middle, and thus the task was completed. I scheduled departure that same day. We were already delayed.
And now, finally, the long-awaited moment has arrived. Now, perhaps, this event would have passed unnoticed. But at that time such trips were a novelty. A sensation, so to speak. And it’s no wonder that in the morning that day crowds of curious people clogged the shore. Here, you know, flags, music, general rejoicing... I took the helm and commanded:
- Raise the sails, give the bow, turn the rudder to starboard!
The sails rose, spread out like white wings, took on the wind, and the yacht, you know, stood still. We gave away the stern end - it’s still standing. Well, I see that drastic measures need to be taken. And just then the tugboat was passing by. I grabbed the bullhorn and shouted:
- Hey, in tow! Accept the end, damn it!
The tug pulled, puffed, lathered the water behind the stern, just didn’t rear up, but the yacht didn’t move... What kind of 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 banks had changed dramatically, the crowds had dispersed, the water was teeming with hats, a booth with ice cream was floating right there, a young man was sitting on top of it with a movie camera and turns the handle.
And under our side we have a whole green island. I looked and understood everything: the carpenters had neglected to install fresh timber. And, imagine, over the summer the entire side of the yacht took root and grew. And I was still surprised: where did such beautiful bushes on the shore come from? Yes. And the yacht is built strong, the tug is kind, the rope is strong. As soon as they pulled, half the bank was carried away along with the bushes. It’s not for nothing, you know, that fresh timber is not recommended for use in shipbuilding... An unpleasant story, to be sure, but, fortunately, everything ended well, without casualties.
The delay was not part of my plans, of course, but nothing can be done about it. This, as they say, is “force majeure” - an unforeseen circumstance. I had to anchor and clear the sides. Otherwise, you know, it’s inconvenient: you won’t meet fishermen - the fish will laugh. It’s not good to go swimming with your estate.
My senior assistant Lom and I spent the whole day working on this work. We suffered, I must admit, quite a lot, got wet, froze... And now night had fallen over the sea, the stars poured out in the sky, the midnight bell was ringing on the ships. I let Lom go to sleep, and I remained on watch. I stand, thinking about the difficulties and delights of the upcoming hike. And so, you know, I was daydreaming and didn’t notice how the night passed.
And in the morning a terrible surprise awaited me: I not only lost a day of sail with this accident - I lost the name of the ship!
You might think that the name doesn't matter? You are wrong, young man! A name is for a ship what a surname is for a person. Well, it’s not far to look for an example: Vrungel, let’s say, is a sonorous, beautiful surname. And if I were some kind of Zaboday-Bodaylo, or if I had a student - Suslik... Could I really count on the respect and trust that I enjoy now? Just imagine: sea captain Suslik... Funny, sir!
So is the ship. Call the ship “Hercules” or “Bogatyr” - the ice will part before it on its own, but try calling your ship “Trough” - it will float like a trough and will certainly capsize somewhere in the calmest weather.
That's why I went through and weighed dozens of names before I settled on the one that my beautiful yacht should wear. I named the yacht “Victory”. What a glorious name for a glorious ship! Here is a name that is not ashamed to carry across all oceans! I ordered cast copper letters and mounted them myself on the edge of the stern. Polished to a shine, they burned with fire. Half a mile away you could read: “Victory.”
And on that ill-fated day, in the morning, I stood alone on the deck. The sea is calm, the port has not yet woken up, after a sleepless night it’s making me sleepy... Suddenly I see: a hard-working port boat puffing, coming right up to me and - plop a stack of newspapers on the deck! Ambition, of course, is to a certain extent a vice. But we are all people, we are all human, as they say, and everyone is pleased when they write about him in the newspaper. Yes, sir. And so I unfold the newspaper. Reading:
“Yesterday’s accident at the start of a round-the-world voyage perfectly justified the original name that Captain Vrungel gave to his ship...”
I was somewhat embarrassed, but, to be honest, I didn’t really understand what the conversation was about. I grab another newspaper, a third... Here in one of them a photograph 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 caption: “Captain Vrungel and the yacht “Trouble” on which he sets off ..."
Then I understood everything. I rushed to the stern and looked. That’s right: two letters were knocked down - “P” and “O”.
Scandal! An irreparable scandal! But nothing can be done: the newspaper men have long tongues. Nobody knows Vrungel, the captain of the Pobeda, but the whole world has already learned about my Trouble.
But there was no need to grieve for long. A breeze picked up from the shore, the sails began to move, I woke Lom up and began to raise the anchor.
And while we were walking along the sea canal, as luck would have it, they shouted to us from all the ships:
- Hey, on the “Trouble”, happy sailing!
It was a pity for the beautiful name, but nothing could be done. So we went to “Trouble.”

We went out to sea. I have not yet had time to recover from the disappointment. And yet I must say: it’s good at sea! It’s not for nothing that, you know, the ancient Greeks used to say that the sea washes away all adversity from a person’s soul.
Let's go. Silence, only the waves rustle along the sides, the mast creaks, and the shore goes away, melting behind the stern. The weather became fresher, the white squirrels began to walk on the waves, the petrels flew in from somewhere, and the breeze began to get stronger. The real sea, salty wind is working, whistling in the gear. So the last lighthouse was left behind, the shores were gone, only the sea all around; Everywhere you look there is sea.
I set a course, handed over command to Lomu, stood on the deck for another minute and went down to the cabin to take a nap for an hour or two before the watch. It’s not for nothing that we, sailors, say: “You never have time to get enough sleep.”
He went downstairs, drank a glass of rum to go to bed, lay down on the bed and fell asleep like the dead.
And two hours later, cheerful and fresh, I go up on deck. I looked around, looked ahead... and my eyes grew dark.
At first glance, of course, there’s nothing special: the same sea all around, the same seagulls, and Lom is in perfect order, holding the helm, but ahead, right in front of the “Trouble”’s nose, a stripe, barely noticeable, like a gray thread, rises above the horizon shores.
Do you know what it means when the coast is supposed to be on your left thirty miles away, but it’s right on your nose? This is a complete scandal. Ugliness. Shame on you! I was shocked, outraged and scared. What to do? Believe it or not, I decided to put the ship on a reverse course and shamefully return to the pier before it was too late. Otherwise, swimming with such an assistant will get you so stuck that you won’t be able to get out, especially at night.
I was about to give the appropriate command, I had already taken a deep breath in my chest to make it more impressive, but then, fortunately, everything was explained. Loma's nose gave out. My senior mate kept turning his nose to the left, greedily 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 excellent rum. But Lom has a rare nose for alcohol, and, understandably, he was drawn to the bottle. This happens.
And if so, then the matter is fixable. In some ways, a special case of the practice of navigation. There are cases that are not foreseen by science. I didn’t even hesitate, went down to the cabin and quietly moved the bottle to the starboard side. Lom's nose reached out like a compass to a magnet, the ship obediently rolled in the same direction, and two hours later the "Trouble" lay down on its previous course. Then I put the bottle in front, at the mast, and Lom no longer strayed off course. He led “Trouble” as if by a thread, and only once took a particularly greedy breath and asked:

- So, Christopher Bonifatievich, shouldn’t we add more sails?
It was a good suggestion. I agreed. “Trouble” was going well before, but then it took off like an arrow.
This is how our long voyage began.

Chapter III. About how technology and resourcefulness can compensate for the lack of courage, and how in swimming one must use all circumstances, even personal illness

Long voyage... What words! Think about it, young man, listen to the music of these words.
Farther... far... vast expanse... space. Is not it?
What about “swimming”? Swimming is a striving forward, movement, in other words.
So it’s like this: movement in space.
It smells like astronomy here, you know. You feel in some way like a star, a planet, a satellite, at worst.
This is why people like me or, say, my namesake Columbus, are drawn to long voyages, to the open ocean, to glorious naval exploits.
And yet this is not the main force that forces us to leave our native shores.
And if you want to know, I’ll tell you a secret and explain what’s the matter.
The pleasures of long voyages are invaluable, needless to say. But there is a greater pleasure: to tell 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 situations, sometimes funny, sometimes tragic, into which the unfortunate fate of a navigator continually puts you.
But at sea, on the great ocean road, what can you meet? Water and wind mainly.
What can you survive? Storms, calm, wandering in fogs, forced downtime on shallows... Of course, there are various extraordinary incidents on the open sea, and there were many of them on our trip, but mostly you can’t tell much about water, about wind, about fogs and shallows.
Let’s say it would be possible to tell. There is something to tell: there are, for example, tornadoes, typhoons, pearl shoals - you never know! All this is amazingly interesting. Well, there are fish there, ships, octopuses - you can talk about that too. But here’s the problem: so much has been said about this that before you even have time to open your mouth, all your listeners will immediately run away, like crucian carp from a shark.
Another thing is approaches, new shores, so to speak. There, you know, there is something to see, there is something to be surprised by. Yes, sir. It’s not for nothing that they say: “As much as a city, it’s noisy.”
That’s why a sailor like me, inquisitive and not bound by commercial interests, tries in every possible way to diversify his voyage by visiting foreign countries. And in this regard, sailing on a small yacht offers countless advantages.
But of course, you know! For example, you stood up on watch and bent over a map. Here is your course, on the right is a certain kingdom, on the left is a certain state, like in a fairy tale. But people live there too. How do they live? It’s interesting to take a look at least with one eye! Interesting? If you please, be curious, who is not telling you? Steer on board... and now the entrance lighthouse is on the horizon! That's it!
Yes, sir. We sailed with a fair wind, fog lay over the sea, and “Trouble” silently, like a ghost, swallowed space mile after mile. Before we even had time to look back, we passed the Sound, Kattegat, Skagerrak... I couldn’t be happier with the performance of the yacht. And on the fifth day, at dawn, the fog cleared, and the coast of Norway opened up on our starboard side.
You could pass by, but what's the rush? I commanded:
- Right to board!
My chief mate Lom turned the rudder sharply to the right, and three hours later our anchor chain rattled in the beautiful and quiet fiord.
Have you ever been to the fiords, young man? In vain! Be sure to visit if you have the opportunity.
Fiords, or skerries, in other words, are, you know, narrow bays and coves, tangled, like a chicken trail, and all around there are rocks, riddled with cracks, overgrown with moss, high and inaccessible. There is a solemn calm and unbreakable silence in the air. Extraordinary beauty!
“Well, Lom,” I suggested, “shouldn’t we go for a walk before lunch?”
- Go for a walk before lunch! - Crowbar barked, so loudly that the birds rose from the rocks in 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 emphasis is not there, but still, you know, it’s pleasant and surprising. However, to tell the truth, there is nothing particularly surprising. There is an amazing echo in the fiords... It’s just the same echo! There, my friend, there are fabulous places and fabulous incidents. Listen to what happened next.
I secured the steering wheel and went to the cabin to change clothes. The crowbar also came down. And now, you know, I’m already completely ready, I’m lacing up my boots - suddenly I feel: the ship has received a sharp tilt towards the bow. Alarmed, I fly onto the deck like a bullet, and a sad picture appears before my eyes: the bow of the yacht is entirely in the water and continues to quickly sink, while the stern, on the contrary, rises upward.
I realized that it was my own fault: I did not take into account the characteristics of the soil, and most importantly, I missed the tide. The anchor is hooked, holds like a glove, and the water holds up. And it’s impossible to poison the chain: the whole bow is in the water, go and dive to the windlass. Where there!
We barely had time to seal down the entrance to the cabin when “Trouble” took up a completely vertical position, like a fishing float. Well, I had to resign myself to the elements. It's nothing you can do. We escaped at the stern. So we sat there until the evening, when the water began to subside. Like this.
And in the evening, wise by experience, I brought the ship into a narrow strait and moored to the shore. That way, I think, it will be more correct.
Yes, sir. They prepared a modest dinner, did the cleaning, turned on the lights as required, and went to bed, confident that the story with the anchor would not repeat itself. And in the morning, at first light, Lom wakes me up and reports:
- Allow me to report, captain: complete calm, the barometer shows clearly, the outside air temperature is twelve degrees Celsius, it was not possible to measure the depth and temperature of the water due to the lack of one.
Woke up, I didn’t immediately understand what he was talking about.
– So what does this mean by “absence”? - I ask. -Where did she go?
“She left with the tide,” Lom reports. – The ship is wedged between the rocks and is in a state of stable equilibrium.
I came out and saw that it was the same song, but in a new way. Then the tide misled us, now the tide is playing tricks on us. What I took for a spill turned out to be a gorge. By morning the water subsided, and we stood on solid ground, as if in a dry dock. There is a forty-foot abyss under the keel, 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, to be more precise.

But I'm not used to wasting time. He examined the yacht from all sides, threw the storm ladder overboard, took an axe, a plane, and a brush. I trimmed the sides flush in the places where the branches remained and painted them over. And when the water began to flow, Lom threw a fishing rod from the stern and caught fish on the ear. So, you see, even such an unpleasant circumstance, if you handle it wisely, can be turned to benefit the cause, so to speak.
After all these events, prudence prompted us to leave this treacherous fiord. Who knows what other surprises he is preparing? But I am a person, as you know, brave, persistent, even somewhat stubborn, if you like, and I am not used to giving up decisions.
It was the same that time: I decided to go for a walk, which means to go for a walk. And as soon as “Trouble” got on the water, I moved her to a new, safe place. I etched a longer chain, and we set off.
We walk along the path between the rocks, and the further we go, the more amazing the surrounding nature. There are squirrels and some birds in the trees: “chirp-chirp,” and dry branches are cracking underfoot, and it seems like a bear is about to come out and roar... There are berries and strawberries right there. You know, I have never seen such strawberries anywhere. Large, about the size of a nut! Well, we got carried away, went deep into the forest, completely forgot about lunch, and when we came to our senses, it was too late. The sun has already gone down and it's cool. And where to go is unknown. There is forest all around. Everywhere you look, there are berries, berries, just berries...
We went down to the fiord, and we saw that it was the wrong fiord. And it’s already nightfall. There was nothing to do, they lit a fire, the night somehow passed, and in the morning they climbed the mountain. Maybe, we think, we’ll see “Trouble” from above.
We climb the mountain, it’s not easy given my build, but we climb and refresh ourselves with strawberries. Suddenly we hear some noise from behind. It was either the wind or a waterfall, something was cracking louder and louder, and it seemed to smell like smoke.
I turned around and looked - and it was: fire! It surrounds us from all sides, following us like a wall. There’s no time for berries here, you know.
The squirrels have abandoned their nests and are jumping from branch to branch, higher and higher on the slope. The birds have risen and are screaming. Noise, panic...
I’m not used to running from danger, but here there’s nothing to do, I have to save myself. And at full speed, after the squirrels, to the top of the cliff - there is nowhere else to go.
We got out, caught our breath, and looked around. The situation, I will tell you, is hopeless: there is fire on three sides, a steep rock on the fourth... I looked down - high, it even took my breath away. The picture, in general, is bleak, and the only cheerful spot on this gloomy horizon is our beautiful “Trouble.” It stands just below us, sways slightly on the wave and with its mast, like a finger, beckons us to come onto the deck.
And the fire is getting closer. Squirrels are visible and invisible all around. Emboldened. Others, you know, had their tails burnt in the fire, so those especially brave, impudent ones, it’s easier to say: they climb right at us, push, press, and just look, they’ll push us into the fire. This is how to light a fire!
Lom is desperate. The squirrels are also desperate. Frankly, I’m not feeling sweet either, but I don’t show it, I’m strengthening myself - the captain shouldn’t give in to despondency. But of course!
Suddenly I looked - one squirrel took aim, fluffed its tail and jumped straight onto the “Trouble”, onto the deck. Behind her, another, a third, and, I look, they fell like peas. In five minutes our rock became clear.
Are we worse than squirrels, or what? I decided to jump too. Well, let's take a swim as a last resort. Just think, it's very important! It is even useful to take a swim before breakfast. And for me it’s like this: it’s decided - it means it’s done.
- Senior mate, full speed ahead for the squirrels! – I commanded.
Lom took a step, raised his leg over the abyss, but suddenly twisted like a cat and back.
“I can’t,” he says, “Khristofor Bonifatievich, excuse me!” I won’t jump, I’d rather burn...
And I see: a person will really burn, but will not jump. A natural fear of heights, a kind of disease... Well, what can you do? Don't abandon poor Loma!
Anyone else would be confused if they were me, but I'm not like that. I found a way out.
I had binoculars with me. Excellent marine binoculars with 12x magnification. I ordered Lom to put the binoculars in his eyes, took him to the edge of the cliff and asked in a stern voice:
- Chief mate, how many squirrels do you have on deck?
Lom began to count:
- One, two, three, four, five...
- Leave it alone! – I shouted. - Accept without billing, drive into the hold!
Here the sense of duty took precedence over the awareness of danger, and the binoculars, no matter how you say them, helped: they brought the deck closer. Lom calmly stepped into the abyss...

I looked after - only the spray rose in a column. A minute later, my senior mate Lom had already climbed on board and began to herd the squirrels.
Then I followed the same path. But, you know, it’s easier for me: I’m an experienced person, I can do it without binoculars.
And you, young man, take this lesson into account; it will come in handy when the occasion arises: if you are planning to jump with a parachute, for example, be sure to take binoculars, even if they are inferior, no matter what, but still, you know, it’s somehow easier, not so high.
Well, he jumped off. He surfaced. I also climbed onto the deck. I wanted to help Lomu, but he’s a quick guy, he did it alone. Before I had time to catch my breath, he had already slammed the hatch, stood in front and reported:
– A full load of squirrels was taken alive without counting! What orders will follow?
Here, you know, you’ll think about what the orders are.
At first, it’s clear to raise the anchor, set the sails, and get away as quickly as possible from this burning mountain. Well, to hell with this fiord. There is nothing more to see here, and besides, it has become hot... So I had no doubts on this issue. But what to do with proteins? Here, you know, the situation is worse. The devil knows what to do with them? It’s good that they drove us into the hold just in time, otherwise, you know, the worthless animals got hungry and started gnawing on the rigging. Just a little more - and install all the rigging.
Well, of course, you could skin the squirrels and hand them over at any port. The fur is valuable and good quality. It would be possible to carry out the operation not without benefit. But this is somehow not good; they saved us, at least showed us the way to salvation, and we are the last of their skins! It's not my rules. On the other hand, taking this whole company around the world with you is also not a pleasant pleasure. After all, this means feeding, watering, caring. Well, this is the law: if you accept passengers, create conditions. Here, you know, there won't be much trouble.
Well, I decided this: we’ll figure it out at home. Where is home for us sailors? In the sea. Makarov, admiral, remember how he said: “At sea means at home.” That's how 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. Let's go. We meet with fishermen and steamships. Fine! And in the evening the breeze strengthened, a real storm began - about ten points. The sea is stormy. How it will lift our "Trouble" and throw it down!... The rigging groans, the mast creaks. The squirrels in the hold are unaccustomed to motion sickness, and I am happy: my “Trouble” is holding up well, passing the storm exam with an A plus. And Lom is a hero: he put on the southwester, stands like a glove at the helm and holds the helm with a firm hand. Well, I stood still, looked, admired the raging elements and went to my cabin. I sat down at the table, turned on the receiver, put on my headphones and listened to what was happening on the air.
This is a wonderful thing - radio. You press the button, turn the handle - and there you go, everything is at your service: music, weather for tomorrow, the latest news. Others, you know, are worried about football - so too, if you please: “Kick! Another shot!... 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 I somehow got it wrong that time. I caught Moscow, tuned in, I heard: “Ivan... Roman... Konstantin... Ulyana... Tatyana... Semyon... Kirill...” - as if he had come for a visit and was getting acquainted. At least don't listen. And I also had a hollow tooth, something hurt... probably after swimming - it hurt so much that I couldn’t cry.
Well, I decided to lie down and rest. I was just about to take off my headphones, and suddenly I heard: no way, SOS? I listened: “T-T-T... Ta, Ta, Ta, T-T-T...” That’s right: a distress signal. The ship is sinking, and here somewhere, close. I froze, catching every sound, I want to know in more detail: where? What? At this time a wave rolled in and gave the “Trouble” so much that she, poor thing, completely lay on board. The squirrels howled. But that would be nothing. What happened here was much worse: the receiver jumped off the table, fell, you know, slammed into the bulkhead and was smashed into pieces. And I see: you can’t collect it. The transmission, of course, was cut off like a knife. And such a heavy feeling: someone nearby is in distress, but where, who is unknown.
We need to go to the rescue, but who knows where to go? And the toothache became even worse.
And just imagine: he helped me out! Without thinking twice, I grab the end of the antenna - and straight into the tooth, into the hollow. The pain was hellish, sparks fell from the eyes, but the reception improved again. True, I can’t hear the music, but I must admit, there’s no need for music here. What kind of music is there! But in Morse, you can’t imagine anything better: a dot will prick you imperceptibly, like a pin, and a dash will be like someone screwing a screw there. And no amplifier is needed, and no adjustment is needed - a diseased tooth with a hollow is already highly sensitive. It’s difficult to endure, of course, but what can you do: in such a situation you have to sacrifice yourself.

And, would you believe it, he took the whole transmission to the end.
Recorded, parsed, translated. It turns out that almost next to us, a Norwegian sailing ship suffered an accident: it ran aground on Doggerbank, got a hole, and is about to sink.
There’s no time to think here, you have to go help out. I forgot about the toothache and began to manage my salvation myself. He climbed onto the deck and stood at the helm.
Let's go. The night is all around, the cold sea, the waves are lashing, the wind is whistling...
Well, we walked for about half an hour, found the Norwegians, and illuminated them with rockets. I see it's rubbish. If you don’t stand close, side by side, it will break. All of their boats were blown away, and dragging people at the ends in such weather is also risky: you’ll drown, no matter what.
I went in from one side, came in from the other - nothing came of it. And the storm was worse than ever. As soon as a wave rolls onto this boat, it will not be visible at all. It rolls across the deck, only the masts are sticking out... Stop, I think this is to our advantage.
I decided to take a chance. I went into the wind, tacked and, along with the wave, jibed at full speed with all sails.
The calculation here was the simplest: the “Trouble” has a small draft, and the waves are like mountains. Let's stay on the ridge and we'll just slip over the deck.
Well, you know, the Norwegians are already desperate, but I’m right there. I stand at the helm, steering it so as not to get caught in the masts, and Lom catches the victims right by the collar, two at a time. They went through this eight times and pulled out everyone - sixteen people led by the captain.
The captain was a little offended: he was supposed to be the last to leave the ship, and Lom, in his haste and in the dark, didn’t understand, picked him up first. It turned out ugly, of course, but that’s okay, it happens... And they just took off the last pair, I saw the ninth shaft rolling. It swooped in and hooted - only splinters flew from the unfortunate ship.
The Norwegians have taken off their hats and are standing trembling on the deck. Well, we looked... Then we turned around, set course and went at full speed back to Norway.
It’s cramped on deck – you can’t turn around, but the Norwegians are okay, they’re even happy. Yes, and it’s understandable: of course, it’s cramped and cold, but anything is better than swimming in such weather.
Yes... Helped out, saved the Norwegians. Here's "Trouble" for you! For some it is misfortune, for others it is a miraculous, so to speak, deliverance from death.
And all resourcefulness! On a long voyage, young man, if you want to be a good captain, never waste a single opportunity, use everything to benefit the cause, even personal illness, if the opportunity arises. That's it!

Chapter IV. About the customs of the Scandinavian peoples, about the incorrect pronunciation of some geographical names and about 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 wonderfully.
Loma and I were placed in the best hotel, the yacht was painted with the most expensive paint at our own expense. Why, the yacht, the squirrels didn’t forget about them either: they wrote out documents for them, registered them as cargo, and then they come and ask:
– What do you order to feed your lovely animals?
What to feed them? I don’t understand anything about this matter; I’ve never bred squirrels. I asked Lom, he said:
“I can’t say for sure, but I remember it was nuts and pine cones.”
And so, imagine what an accident: I speak Norwegian fluently, but I forgot these two words. They’re on the tip of my tongue, but I can’t remember. What a blast. I thought and thought, what should I do? Well, I came up with an idea: I sent Loma along with the Norwegians to the grocery store.
“Look,” I say, “maybe you’ll find something suitable.”
Fuck him. Then he returned and reported that everything was in order: he had found nuts and cones. I must admit, I was somewhat surprised that the shop sold pine cones, but, you know, that doesn’t happen in a foreign country! Maybe, I think, for samovars or, for example, decorating Christmas trees, who knows what?
And in the evening I come to the “Trouble” to see how the painting is going, I looked into the hold to see the squirrels - and let you know! Lom made a mistake, but what a successful mistake he made!
I look - my squirrels are sitting, as if on a name day, and are devouring nut halva on both cheeks. Halva is in jars, and on each jar there is a nut painted on the lid. And with cones it’s even better: instead of cones they brought pineapples. Well, indeed, those who don’t know can easily get confused. The pineapples, however, are larger in size, but in other respects they are similar, and the smell is the same. When I saw the crowbar there in the shop, I poked my finger back and forth, and that’s how it happened.
Well, they started taking us to theaters, museums, and showing us various sights. They showed, by the way, a live horse. This is very rare for them. They drive cars there, and even more walk. At that time they plowed on their own, by hand, so they had no use for horses. Some of the younger ones were taken away, the older ones died and died, and those who remained are standing in zoos, chewing hay and dreaming.
And if they take a horse out for a walk, a crowd immediately gathers, everyone looks, shouts, and disrupts traffic. Just as if a giraffe were walking down the street in our country, I think the foreman would not know what light to turn on at the traffic light.
Well, horses are nothing new to us. I even decided to surprise the Norwegians: I grabbed her by the withers, jumped up, and spurred her with my heels.

The Norwegians gasped, and the next morning all the newspapers published an article about my bravery and a photograph: a horse galloping and me on it. Without a saddle, his jacket is unbuttoned, fluttering in the wind, his cap is out of place, his legs are dangling, and the horse has a tail like a pipe...
Later I realized: it was an unimportant photograph, unworthy of a sailor, but then in the heat of the moment I didn’t pay attention and was also pleased.
And the Norwegians were pleased.
In general, I must say, this country is pleasant. And the people there are good, you know, quiet people, friendly, good-natured.
I have been there, in Norway, more than once, of course, before, and from a young age, I remember such an incident happened to me.
We landed at the same port, and from there my route was by rail.
Well, I'm coming to the station. The train is not coming soon. To put it bluntly, walking with suitcases is difficult and inconvenient.
I found the station master and asked:
-Where is your storage room?
And the boss, such 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, “don’t be shy, leave them, your suitcases are here, they won’t bother anyone, I assure you...
That's it. And recently my friend arrived from there. Imagine, his suitcase was stolen from his compartment on the train. What can I say: a lot has changed in morals and manners. Well, you know: the Germans visited there during the war - they established a new order. And now various educators are visiting the country, raising the way of life to the proper height. And, of course, the people wiped themselves off and became more efficient. Now even there they understand that things are bad where they are. Culture!
Well, at that time they still lived there the old fashioned way. They lived quietly. But not all. There were people in Norway then, so to speak, advanced, who ate from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil. For example, the owners of large stores, establishments, factories. Even then they understood where things were bad.
And this also affected me in the most, so to speak, direct way. There is one company there - it produces telephones, radios... So, these factory owners got wind of my tooth and became worried. Yes, and it’s understandable: after all, if everyone starts to take it for granted, no one will buy receivers. What damage! This is where you get worried. Well, without thinking twice they decided to take possession of my invention, and my tooth at the same time. At first, you know, in an amicable way, they sent me a business letter with an offer to sell my defective tooth. And I reasoned, I thought: “Why on earth?” The tooth is nothing, you can bite, but what about the hollow, that’s, excuse me, my business. I have one friend who even likes it when his teeth hurt.
“Of course,” he says, “when it hurts, it’s really painful and unpleasant, but when it goes away, it’s painfully good!”
Yes. Well, I answered that I don’t sell the 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 appeared, following me on my heels, looking into my mouth, whispering... Well, I felt uneasy: it’s good as one tooth, so be it, but to be sure, how about they take it completely, with my head? Where can I go swimming without a head?
So I decided to leave sin. He asked the port of departure for instructions on the issue of squirrels, and in order to protect himself from intruders, he took special measures: he took an oak gangplank, stuck 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, only one edge held under the door. Before going to bed, I looked around, checked the readiness of this structure and calmly went to bed. I didn’t even set a watch: there was no need. And so, you know, they arrived in the morning. I hear cautious steps, the creaking of the door, then suddenly - bang! – the gangplank jumped out from under the door, straightened up...
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, onto the mast. They got their pants caught in there, hanging there and screaming at the whole city.
I can’t tell you how they were filmed - I didn’t see them.
Just then a response came from the port with an order to deliver the squirrels to Hamburg. There was the famous Gadenbeck Zoo there, so he bought various animals.
I have already had the opportunity to report to you about some of the advantages of competitive swimming. In competitive swimming you are your own boss: wherever you want, that’s where you go. And if you get involved with the cargo, then it’s just like a cab driver: the reins are in your hands, and you’re driving wherever they’re ordered.
For example, Hamburg. But would I have gone there on my own accord! What didn't I see there? Shutsmanov, or what? Well, again, you know, navigation becomes more complicated, there are all sorts of commercial correspondence, considerations for the safety of cargo, customs formalities, especially in Hamburg... The people there, unlike the Norwegians, are grated, impolite - and just like that, they will rip you off like a stick.
By the way, you know, I just don’t understand why we pronounce it so firmly: “Hamburg”? This is incorrect, the local residents call their city “Hamburg”. It sounds softer, and most importantly, it is more true to reality.
Yes, but once ordered, one must obey. He brought “Trouble” to Hamburg, placed it against the wall, dressed himself more cleanly and went to look for Gadenbeck. I arrive at the menagerie. There, you know, there are elephants, tigers, a crocodile, a marabou bird, and this same squirrel hanging right there in a cage. What other squirrel is no match for mine! My slackers are sitting in the hold, gorging themselves on halva, and this one has a turntable, and she’s there all the time, like a clockwork, like a squirrel in a wheel, jumping and spinning. Take a look!
Well, I found Gadenbeck himself, introduced myself and explained that I had a full load of squirrels on board, alive, at a reasonable price.
Gadenbeck looked at the ceiling, folded his hands on his stomach, and twirled his fingers.
“Squirrels,” he says, “are they the ones with tails and ears?” Of course, I know. So you have squirrels? Well, I'll take it. Only, you know, we are very strict with smuggling. Are their documents in order?
Then I gratefully remembered the Norwegians and laid out 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 onto the table, stuck out his tongue, licked the paper and was gone. I'm following him. Where is it?

And Gadenbeck folded his glasses and spread his hands.
“I can’t do it without documents,” he says. I would be glad, but I can’t. We are very strict about this.
I got upset and started to argue. Well, I see, there is nothing to do, he left. I approach the pier and see that something is wrong on the “Trouble.” There is a crowd of onlookers all around, there are schutzmanns, customs officers, port officials on board... They press on Lom, and he stands in the middle and somehow scolds.
I pushed through, calmed them down and found out what was going on. And the matter took the most unexpected and unpleasant turn. Gadenbeck, it turns out, had already called the customs office, and they picked up an article, accused me of illegally importing livestock and threatened to take away the ship along with the cargo...
But I have nothing to object to: indeed, the documents are lost, I did not receive a special permit to import squirrels. If the truth is told, who will believe it? There is no evidence, and remaining silent is even worse.
In a word, I see: the matter is rubbish.
“Eh,” I think, “wherever it goes!” You are like this, and so am I!”
I straightened my jacket, straightened up to my full height, and declared to the chief official himself:
- Your demands, gentlemen, officials, are unfounded, since international maritime laws directly provide for a clause according to which the indispensable accessories of a ship, such as: anchors, boats, unloading and life-saving devices, communications equipment, signaling devices, fuel and running gear in quantities, necessary for safe navigation, are not subject to any port taxes 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 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 one, Mr. Official: to the category of running vehicles,” I answered and turned on my heels.
The officials were at first taken aback, then they whispered among themselves, and again the chief stepped forward.
“We,” he says, “will willingly renounce our legal claims if you can prove that the cattle on board your ship really serve as your running machine.”
You yourself understand: it is not easy to prove such a thing. Where to prove it - it would take time!
“You see,” I say, “the critical parts of the engine are on shore, under repair, and tomorrow, if you please, I will present you with evidence.”
Well, they left. But right there, next to the “Trouble,” I saw they parked a police boat under steam so that I wouldn’t run away under the noise.
And I, you see, hid in the cabin, remembered that squirrel that Gadenbeck had, took paper, a compass, a ruler and began to draw.
An hour later, Lom and I went to the blacksmith and ordered him two wheels, like those of a steamboat, and the third, like a mill wheel. Only at the mill there are steps on the outside, but we made them inside and stretched the mesh on both sides. The blacksmith turned out to be efficient and understanding. Did everything on time.

End of free trial.

The Adventures of Captain Vrungel

Christopher Bonifatievich Vrungel taught navigation at our nautical school.

“Navigation,” he said in the first lesson, “is a science that teaches us to choose the safest and most profitable sea routes, plot these routes on maps and navigate ships along them... Navigation,” he added finally, “is not an exact science.” In order to fully master it, you need personal experience of long-term practical sailing...

This unremarkable introduction was the cause of fierce 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 in retirement. He knew navigation brilliantly, taught interestingly, with a spark, and he apparently had enough experience. It seemed that Christopher Bonifatievich had indeed plowed all the seas and oceans.

But people, as you know, are different. Some are gullible beyond all 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, himself never went to sea.

As proof of this absurd assertion, they cited the appearance of Christopher Bonifatievich. And his appearance really somehow did not fit with our idea of ​​a brave 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 pince-nez on a black lace without a rim, shaved clean, was corpulent and short, had a restrained and pleasant voice, often smiled, rubbed his hands, sniffed tobacco and with his whole appearance he looked more like a retired pharmacist than a sea captain.

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

- Well, what are you talking about! Now is not the time,” he objected with a smile and, instead of another lecture, gave an extraordinary test on navigation.

When, after the call, he came out with a stack of notebooks under his arm, our arguments stopped. Since then, no one has doubted that, unlike other navigators, Christopher Bonifatievich Vrungel acquired his experience at home, without embarking on long voyages.

So we would have remained with this erroneous opinion if I had very soon, but quite unexpectedly, been 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. Three days later we learned that on the way home he lost his galoshes on the tram, got his feet wet, 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, I was sent to Vrungel’s apartment.

I went. I found the apartment without difficulty and knocked. And then, while I was standing in front of the door, I quite clearly imagined Vrungel, surrounded by pillows and wrapped in blankets, from under which his nose, red from a cold, protruded.

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

Instead of a modest retired pharmacist, a formidable captain in full dress uniform, with gold stripes on his sleeves, sat at the table, deep in reading some ancient book. He was fiercely gnawing on a huge smoky pipe, there was no mention of pince-nez, and his gray, disheveled hair stuck out in clumps in all directions. Even Vrungel’s nose, although it really turned red, became somehow more solid and with all its 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 carelessly thrown bundle of cards half covered a dried shark fin. On the floor, instead of a carpet, lay a walrus skin with a head and tusks, in the corner lay an Admiralty anchor with two bows of a rusty chain, a curved sword hung on the wall, and next to it was a St. John's wort harpoon. There was something else, but I didn’t have time to see it.

The door creaked. Vrungel raised his head, placed a small dagger in the book, stood up and, staggering as if in a storm, stepped towards me.

- Very nice to meet you. Sea captain Vrungel Khristofor Bonifatievich,” he said in a thunderous bass, extending his hand to me. – To what do I owe your visit?

The name of Captain Vrungel has already become a household name; it is difficult to find someone who has not heard of it. But, unfortunately, not everyone knows the detailed history of this bright fictional character. The book “The Adventures of Captain Vrungel” was written by Andrei Nekrasov, and then cartoons were made based on it, but they have plot differences with the book.

This is a collection of fascinating stories about navigation that will be interesting to children, adults will be able to remember their childhood and be distracted by light reading. However, the book contains a little sarcasm and mockery of people's lifestyles and habits. And the prototype of the main character was a friend of the writer himself; it was his stories that gave Nekrasov the idea of ​​​​creating such a collection of funny stories.

At the very beginning of the book, the author introduces readers to his hero, talking about a teacher at a naval school who suddenly revealed himself to the cadets as a talented captain. The following chapters come from the perspective of Captain Vrungel himself. One day he decided to remember the old days and sail on the sailing yacht Pobeda. He took with him an assistant, strong, resilient, but too simple-minded and narrow-minded - Lom takes all words literally. Their adventures began even before the start of the journey; at the moment of departure, their yacht suddenly changed its name to “Trouble”. And then even more interesting things happened, there were many unusual places, dangers, adventures, curious incidents and fascinating stories, which formed the basis of this book.

On our website you can download the book “The Adventures of Captain Vrungel” Andrey Sergeevich Nekrasov for free and without registration in fb2, rtf, epub, pdf, txt format, read the book online or buy the book in the online store.

Year: 1937 Genre: story

Main characters: Captain Vrungel, his assistant Lom, sailor Fuchs, a sharper and Hamura Kusaki - admiral, villain.

The story about the adventures of Captain Vrungel was written by the Soviet writer Andrei Nekrasov in the thirties of the twentieth century. It tells in a parody form about the adventures of sailors and travels to different countries of the world. Captain Vrungel is a copy of Baron Munchausen, who loved to tell unusual stories.

The story describes various adventures that the main characters overcome through friendship and courage. The book instills in children curiosity, a desire for travel and new discoveries.

Read the summary of Nekrasov The Adventures of Captain Vrungel

The main story about Captain Vrungel, a teacher at the naval school, begins with the second chapter of the story. The main character got bored with the daily routine and decided to travel around the world. Without wasting time, Christopher Bonifatievich began to implement his plan. He hastily ordered a yacht to be made and hired an assistant. When Vrungel and his assistant Lom decided to sail, nothing happened. The tree from which the yacht was made turned out to be fresh and took root in the ground. The friends lost time retraining the yacht, but still managed to sail. Only later, at sea, did they discover the loss of the first letters in the name of the ship. Now the yacht began to be called “Trouble”.

The following chapters of the story tell about the adventures that befall the main characters. One of the chapters describes how, having stood up in a roadstead in a bay to rest, the tide went out and the yacht hung in the air, pinched by the rocks. While waiting for high tide, the crew abandoned the ship. But suddenly there was a fire on the island. Frightened squirrels climbed into the yacht. So Vrungel and Lom saved a flock of squirrels and successfully went to sea. Subsequently, the squirrels provided good service. When there was no tailwind, the captain built a special structure consisting of three wheels, and put a squirrel in one of them. The squirrels turned the wheel and set the yacht in motion.

During one of the sea voyages, Captain Vrungel and Lom rescued a team of Norwegian sailors who were shipwrecked. "Trouble" took them on board and delivered them to the Norwegian port city of Stavanger.
Once Vrungel wanted to escort a whole school of herring by sea, for which he hired a swindler of French nationality named Fuchs as an assistant. The team almost succeeded in fulfilling their plan, but, unfortunately, only a portion of the fish swim to Egypt.

Crossing the equator, Vrungel, remaining true to maritime traditions, decides to celebrate Neptune's Day and dresses up in an unusual costume. The crew did not understand the captain's desire and believed that he had suffered heatstroke from the sun. Lom decides that the captain needs to cool off and dunks him in a barrel of water several times.

It happened that when transporting eggs in the hold of a yacht, small crocodiles hatched from them, and on the shores of Somalia the crew was arrested, but they managed to successfully escape, thanks to Fuchs’ “skills.”

In the polar waters, "Trouble" meets a sperm whale who had a runny nose. Vrungel cures him by pouring a shovel of aspirin into his mouth. After which the crew of the yacht is arrested by whale defenders.

The crew of the yacht "Trouble" did not escape adventures on an uninhabited island, which they quickly settled in, caught penguins, organized a bathhouse at the hot springs of an active volcano, which led to its explosion from an excess of steam.

Friends have also had separations. So, after an explosion on an uninhabited island, Vrungel and Fuchs lost Loma and sailed on ordinary boards across the ocean waters to Honolulu, where they were mistaken for local aborigines.

Later they manage to meet and continue their journey. The team will have to be stokers on a ship in Japan, and in Canada, cross the icy Bering Strait on reindeer sleds. There will even be a meeting with doubles, but the crew of “Trouble” will be able to expose the attackers.

During the journey, many more interesting events and adventures took place, which did not prevent “Trouble” from winning the sailing regatta using the jet power of champagne.

Thanks to the skill and ingenuity of Captain Vrungel, as well as the resourcefulness of his assistant Lom and the efforts of Fuchs, the team coped with all the difficulties that befell the team and successfully completed its trip around the world.

Picture or drawing of Nekrasov - The Adventures of Captain Vrungel

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