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Genie's back.
Hottabych was about to turn round to see what it was, but Volka wailed:
"Don't turn around! Please, don't turn around! Hottabych, my sweet,
dear Hottabych!"
Nevertheless, the old man did turn around.
Coming towards them, arm in arm with another elderly lady, was Varvara
Stepanovna Koltsova, an Honoured Teacher of the Republic, the 6B geography
teacher of Moscow Secondary School No. 245.
Hottabych approached her slowly. With a practised gesture he yanked a
hair from his beard, and then another.
"Don't!" Volka yelled in horror, as he grabbed Hottabych's hand. "She's
not to blame! You've no right to!"
Zhenya silently tackled Hottabych from the rear and gripped him as
firmly as he could.
The old man's companion looked at this strange scene in utter
amazement.
"Boys!" Varvara Stepanovna commanded, apparently not at all surprised
at meeting her pupils on the ice-breaker. "Behave yourselves! Leave the old
man alone! Didn't you hear me?! Kostylkov! Bogorad! Do you hear?"
"He'll turn you into a toad if we do!" Volka cried frantically, feeling
that he could not manage Hottabych.
"Or into a chopping-block on which butchers carve mutton!" Zhenya
added. "Run, Varvara Stepanovna! Hurry up and hide before he breaks loose!
What Volka said is true!"
"What nonsense!" Varvara Stepanovna said, raising her voice. "Children,
did you hear what I said?!"
By then Hottabych had wrenched free from his young friends and quickly
tore the hairs in two. The boys shut their eyes in horror.
However, they opened them when they heard Varvara Stepanovna thanking
someone. She was holding a bouquet of flowers and a large bunch of ripe
bananas.
Hottabych replied by bowing with a nourish and touching first his
forehead and then his heart.
When they were back in their cabin, the three friends had a show-down.
"Oh, Volka, why didn't you tell me right away, right after the
examination, the very first day of our happy acquaintance, that I failed you
by my over-confident and ignorant prompting? You've offended me. If you had
only told me, I wouldn't have bothered you with my annoying gratitude. Then
you could have easily prepared for your re-examination, as is becoming an
enlightened youth like you."
So spoke Hottabych, and there was real hurt in his voice.
"But you'd have turned Varvara Stepanovna into a chopping-block for
carving mutton. No, Hottabych, I know you only too well. We spent all these
days in terrible fear for her life. Tell me, would you have changed her into
a chopping-block?"
Hottabych sighed.
"Yes, I would have, there's no use denying it. Either that or into a
terrible toad."
"See! Is that what she deserves?"
"Why, if anyone ever dares to turn this noble woman into a
chopping-block or a toad he'll have to deal with me first!" the old man
cried hotly and added, "I bless the day you induced me to learn the alphabet
and taught me how to read the papers. Now I am always up-to-date and well
informed on which sea is being built, and where. And I also bless the day
Allah gave me the wisdom to 'filch' your geography book-that's the right
expression, isn't it, 0 Volka? For that truly wise and absorbing book has
opened before me the blessed expanses of true science and has saved me from
administering that which I, in my blindness, considered a deserving
punishment for your highly respected teacher. I mean Varvara Stepanovna."
"I guess that takes care of that!" Volka said.
"It sure does," Zhenya agreed.
They were having good sailing weather. For three days and three nights
they sailed in open seas and only towards the end of the third day did they
enter a region of scattered ice.
The boys were playing checkers in the lounge, when an excited Hottabych
burst in on them, holding on to the brim of his old straw hat.
"My friends," he said with a broad smile, "go and have a look: the
whole world, as far as the eye can see, is covered with sugar and diamonds!"
We can excuse Hottabych these funny words, as never before in his
nearly forty centuries of living had he seen a single mound of ice worth
speaking of.
Everyone in the lounge rushed on deck and discovered thousands of
snow-white drifting ice-floes sparkling and glittering in the bright rays of
the midnight sun, moving silently towards the "Ladoga." Soon the first
ice-floes crunched and crashed against the rounded steel stem of the boat.
Late that night (but it was as bright and sunny as on a clear noonday)
the passengers saw a group of islands in the distance. This was the first
glimpse they had of the majestic and sombre panorama of Franz Joseph Land.
They saw the gloomy, naked cliffs and mountains covered with glittering
glaciers which resembled sharp, pointed clouds that had been pressed close
to the harsh land.
"It's time to go to bed, I guess," Volka said when everyone had had his
fill of looking at the far islands. "There's really nothing to do, but I
don't feel like sleeping. It all comes from not being used to sleeping while
the sun is shining!"
"0 blessed one, it seems to me that it is not the sun which is
interfering, but something else entirely," Hottabych suggested timidly.
However, no one paid attention to his words.
For a while, the boys wandered up and down the decks. There were less
and less people aboard. Finally they, too, went back to their cabin. Soon
the only people on the ship who were not asleep were the crew members on
duty.
It was quiet and peaceful aboard the "Ladoga." From every cabin there
came the sound of snoring or deep breathing, as if this were not taking
place on a ship some two and a half thousand kilometres from the mainland,
in the harsh and treacherous Barents Sea, but in a cosy rest home somewhere
near Moscow, during the afternoon "quiet hour." The shades were drawn on the
port-holes, just as on the windows in rest homes, to keep out the bright
sunshine.
However, it soon became clear that there was a very tangible difference
between the "Ladoga" and a rest home. Apart from the Crimean earthquake,
old-timers at rest homes do not recall having been tossed out of their beds
in their sleep. The passengers had just fallen asleep when a sharp jerk
threw them from their berths.
That very moment the steady hum of the engines stopped. In the silence
which followed, one could hear the slamming of doors and the sound of
running feet, as the people rushed out of their cabins to find out what had
happened. There were shouts of command coming from the deck. Volka was lucky
in tumbling out of the top berth without major injuries. He immediately
jumped to his feet and began to rub his sore spots. As he was still half
asleep, he decided that it had been his own fault and was about to climb up
again when the murmur of anxious voices coming from the corridor convinced
him that the reason was much more serious than he thought.
"Perhaps we hit an underground reef?" he wondered, pulling on his
clothes. This thought, far from frightening him, gave him a strange and
burning feeling of anxious exhilaration. "Golly! This is a real adventure!
Gee! There isn't a single ship within a thousand kilometres, and maybe our
wireless doesn't work!"
He imagined a most exciting picture: they were shipwrecked, their
supplies of drinking water and food were coming to an end, but the
passengers and crew of the "Ladoga" were calm and courageous-as Soviet
people should be. Naturally, he, Volka Kostylkov, had the greatest will
power. Yes, Vladimir Kostylkov could look danger in the face. He would
always be cheerful and outwardly carefree, he would comfort those who were
despondent. When the captain of the "Ladoga" would succumb to the inhuman
strain and deprivation, he, Volka, would rightly take over command of the
ship.
"What has disturbed the sleep so necessary to your young system?"
Hottabych asked and yawned, interrupting Volka's day-dreams.
"I'll find out right away, Hottabych. I don't want you to worry about
anything," Volka said comfortingly and ran off.
Gathered on the spardeck near the captain's bridge were about twenty
half-dressed passengers. They were all discussing something quietly. In
order to raise their spirits, Volka assumed a cheerful, carefree expression
and said courageously:
"Be calm, everyone! Calmness above all! There's no need to panic!"
"That's very true. Those are golden words, young man! And that is why
you should go right back to your cabin and go to sleep without fear," one of
the passengers replied with a smile. "By the way, no one here is feeling at
all panicky."
Everyone laughed, to Volka's considerable embarrassment. Besides, it
was rather chilly on deck and he decided to run down and get his coat.
"Calmness above all!" he said to Hottabych, who was waiting for him
below. "There's no reason to get panicky. Before two days are out, a giant
ice-breaker will come for us and set us afloat once again. We certainly
could have done it ourselves, but can you hear? The engines have stopped
working. Something went wrong, but no one can find out what it is. There
will surely be deprivations, but let's hope that no one will die."
Volka was listening to himself speak with pleasure. He had never dreamt
he could calm people so easily and convincingly.
"0 woe is me!" the old man cried suddenly, shoving his bare feet into
his famous slippers. "If you perish, I'll not survive you. Have we really
come upon a shoal? Alas, alas! It would be much better if the engines were
making noise. And just look at me! Instead of using my magic powers for more
important things, I...."
"Hottabych," Volka interrupted sternly, "tell me this minute: what have
you done?"
"Why, nothing much. It's just that I so wanted you to sleep soundly,
that I permitted myself to order the engines to stop making noise."
"Oh, no!" Volka cried in horror. "Now I know what happened! You ordered
the engines to be still, but they can't work silently. That's why the ship
stopped so suddenly. Take back your order before the boilers explode!"
"I hear and I obey," a rather frightened Hottabych answered shakily.
That very moment the engines began to hum again and the "Ladoga"
continued on its way as before. Meanwhile, the captain, the chief engineer
and everyone else on board were at a loss to explain why the engines had
stopped so suddenly and mysteriously and had resumed working again just as
suddenly and mysteriously.
Only Hottabych and Volka knew what had happened, but for obvious
reasons they said nothing. Not even to Zhenya. But then, Zhenya had slept
soundly through it all.
"If there was ever an international contest to see who's the soundest
sleeper, I bet Zhenya would get first prize and be the world champion,"
Volka said.
Hottabych giggled ingratiatingly, though he had no idea what a contest
was, and especially an international one, or what a champion was. But he was
trying to appease Volka.
Yet, this in no way staved off the unpleasant conversation. Volka sat
down on the edge of Hottabych's berth and said:
"You know what? Let's have a man-to-man talk."
"I am all ears, 0 Volka," Hottabych replied with exaggerated
cheerfulness.
"Did you ever try counting how many years older you are than me?"
"Somehow, the thought never entered my head, but if you permit me to,
I'll gladly do so."
"Never mind, I figured it out already. You're three thousand, seven
hundred and nineteen years older than me-or exactly two hundred and
eighty-seven times! And when people see us together on the deck or in the
lounge they probably think: how nice it is that these boys have such a
respectable, wise and elderly gentleman to keep an eye on them. Isn't that
right? What's the matter? Why don't you answer?"
But Hottabych, hanging his unruly grey head, seemed to have taken a
mouthful of water.
"But how do things really stand? Actually, I find that I'm suddenly
responsible for your life and the lives of all the passengers, because since
it was me who let you out of the bottle an since you nearly sank a whole
ice-breaker, it means I'm responsible for everything. I deserve to have my
head chopped off."
"Just let anyone try to chop off such a noble head as yours! Hottabych
cried.
"All right, never mind that. Don't interrupt. To continue: Pi sick and
tired of your miracles. There's no doubt about it, you're really a very
mighty Genie (Hottabych puffed out his chest), bi as concerns modern times
and modern technical development; you don't know much more than a new-born
babe. Is the clear?"
"Alas, it is."
"Well then, let's agree: whenever you feel like performing some
miracle, consult other people."
"I'll consult you, 0 Volka, and if you won't be on hand, or : you're
busy preparing for a re-examination (Volka winced), the I'll consult
Zhenya."
"Do you swear?"
"I swear," the old man exclaimed and struck his chest wit his fist.
"And now, back to bed," Volka ordered.
"Aye, aye, Sir!" Hottabych answered loudly. He had already managed to
pick up some nautical terms.
By morning the "Ladoga" had entered a zone of heavy fogs. ; crawled
ahead slowly and every five minutes its siren wailed loudly, breaking the
eternal silence.
This was done in accordance with the rules of navigation. then it is
foggy, all vessels must sound their fog horns, no matter whether they are in
the busiest harbours or in the empty wastes of the Arctic Ocean. This is
done to prevent collisions.
The sound of the "Ladoga's" siren depressed the passengers.
It was dull and damp on deck, and boring in the cabins. That is why
every seat in the lounge was occupied. Some passengers were playing chess,
some were playing checkers, others were reading. Then they tired of these
pastimes, too. Finally they decided to sing.
They sang all together and one at a time; they danced to the
accompaniment of a guitar and an accordion. A famous Uzbek cotton-grower
danced to an accompaniment provided by Zhenya. There really should have been
a tambourine, but since there was none, Zhenya tapped out the rhythm quite
well on an enamelled tray. Everyone was pleased except the Uzbek, but he was
very polite and praised Zhenya, too. Then a young man from a Moscow factory
began doing card tricks. This time everyone except Hottabych thought it was
grand.
He called Volka out into the corridor.
"Permit me, 0 Volka, to entertain these kind people with several simple
miracles."
Volka recalled how these "simple miracles" had nearly ended in the
circus and protested vigorously, "Don't even think of it!" Finally, however,
he agreed, because Hottabych was looking at him with such sad-dog eyes.
"All right, but remember-just card tricks and maybe something with the
ping-pong balls, if you want to."
"I shall never forget your wise generosity," Hottabych said gratefully,
and they returned to the lounge. The young worker was in the midst of a
really good trick. He offered anyone in the audience to choose a card, look
at it, replace it, and then shuffle the deck. Then he shuffled it too, and
the top card always turned out to be the right one.
After he had received his well-earned applause and returned to his
seat, Hottabych asked to be permitted to entertain the gathering with
several simple tricks. That's how the boastful old man put it-simple.
Naturally, everyone agreed. They applauded before he even began.
Bowing smartly to all sides like an old-timer on the stage, Hottabych
took two ping-pong balls from a table and threw them into the air. Suddenly,
there were four balls; he threw them up again and they became eight, then
thirty-two. He began juggling all thirty-two balls, and then they
disappeared and were found to be in thirty-two pockets of thirty-two people
in the audience. Then they flew out of the pockets, formed a chain and began
spinning around a bowing Hottabych like sputniks until they became a white
hoop. Hottabych put this large hoop on Varvara Stepanovna's lap with a low
bow. The hoop began to flatten out until it turned into a roll of excellent
silk. Hottabych cut it into pieces with Volka's pen-knife. The pieces of
silk flew into the air like birds and wound themselves into turbans of
remarkable beauty around the heads of the amazed audience.
Hottabych listened to the applause blissfully. Then he snapped his
fingers. The turbans turned into pigeons which flew out through the open
port-holes and disappeared. Everyone was now convinced that the old man in
the funny oriental slippers was one of the greatest conjurors.
Hottabych wallowed in the applause. The boys knew him well enough to
understand how dangerous such unanimous and exciting approval was for him.
"Just wait and see! Watch him go to town now," Zhenya whispered in a
worried voice. "I have a funny feeling, that's all."
"Don't worry, we have a very strict agreement on this point."
"One minute, my friends," Hottabych said to the applauding passengers.
"Will you permit me to...."
He yanked a single hair from his beard. Suddenly a shrill whistle
sounded on deck. They could hear the heavy clatter of running feet.
"That's the militia coming to fine someone!" Zhenya joked. "Somebody's
jumped overboard at full speed!" No one had time to laugh, because the
"Ladoga" shuddered and something clanged menacingly below. For the second
time that day the ship came to a stop.
"See! What did I say!" Zhenya hissed and looked at Hottabych with
loathing. "He couldn't control himself. Just look at him boast! Golly! I've
never met a more conceited, boastful and undisciplined Genie in my whole
life!"
"Are you up to your old tricks again, Hottabych? You swore yesterday
that...."
There was such shouting in the lounge that Volka didn't bother lowering
his voice.
"Oh, no! No! Do not insult me with such suspicions, 0 serpent among
boys, for I have never broken the smallest promise, to say nothing of an
oath. I swear I know no more than you do about the reasons for our sudden
stop."
"A snake?" Volka shouted angrily. "Oh, so on top of everything else,
I'm a snake! Thank you, Hottabych! My best merci to you!"
"Not a snake, a serpent, for know ye that a serpent is the living
embodiment of wisdom."
This time the old man was really not to blame. The "Ladoga" had lost
its way in the fog and gone aground. Passengers crowded the deck, but they
had difficulty in even making out the rails. However, by leaning over the
side near the bow they could see the propellers churning up the dark
unfriendly waters.
Half an hour passed, but all attempts to get the ship off the shoal by
putting it in reverse ended in failure. Then the captain ordered the spry
boatswain to pipe all on deck.
Everyone except those standing watch gathered on the spardeck. The
captain said, "Comrades, this is an emergency. There's only one way to get
off the shoal under our own steam and that's transfer the coal from the bow
to the stern; then we'll be able make free of the shoal. If everyone pitches
in, it won't take more than ten or twelve hours to do the job. The boatswain
will divide you into teams. Put on your worst clothes and let's start the
ball rolling.
"You, boys, and you, Hassan Hottabych, need not worry. its is no job
for you: the boys are too young and it's a little too late for you to carry
heavy loads."
"What do you mean by saying I can't carry heavy loads?" Hottabych
replied scornfully. "Please be informed that no one present here can equal
me in weight-lifting, 0 most respected captain."
The other passengers began to smile.
"What an old man!" "Listen to him boast." "Just look at that
muscle-man!"
"There's nothing to laugh at, he feels offended. It's no fun be old."
"See for yourself!" Hottabych shouted. He grabbed his two young friends
and, to the general amazement, began juggling them as if they were plastic
billiard balls stead of sturdy thirteen-year-old boys. The applause which
followed was so deafening, the whole scene might very well have taken place
at a weight-lifting contest and not on board a ship in danger.
"I take my words back," the captain said solemnly after the applause
had died down. "And now, let's get to work! There's time to waste!"
"Hottabych," Volka said, -taking the old man off to a side "what's the
use of dragging coal from one hold to another for twelve long hours? I think
you should do something to get the ship off the shoal."
"That's not within my powers," the old man answered sadly "I thought of
it already. Naturally, I can pull it off the rocks, but then the bottom will
be all scratched and ripped, and I won't b able to fix it, because I never
saw what a ship looks like on the bottom. Then we'll certainly drown in no
time."
"Think again, Hottabych! Maybe you'll think of some thing!"
"I'll try my best, 0 compass of my soul," the old man replied. After a
short pause he asked, "What if I make the rocks disappear?"
"Oh, Hottabych! How smart you are!" Volka said and began to shake his
hand. "That's a wonderful idea."
"I hear and I obey."
The first emergency team was down in the hold, loading the first iron
bins with coal, when the "Ladoga" suddenly lurched and then began to spin
around in a whirlpool over the spot where there had just been a shoal. In
another minute, the ship would have broken to bits, had not Volka sense
enough to tell Hottabych to make the whirlpool disappear. The sea became
calm; the "Ladoga" spun around a while longer from sheer force of inertia.
Then it continued on its way.
Once again, no one but Hottabych and Volka knew what he happened.
Ahead were more exciting days, each unlike the other, as they journeyed
across little-known seas and channels, past bleak islands upon which no
human foot had ever stepped. The passengers often left the ship to go ashore
on deserted cliffs and on islands where polar station teams greeted them
with rifle salvos. Our three friends joined the rest in climbing glaciers,
wandering over the naked stones of basalt plateaux, jumping from ice-floe to
ice-floe over black open patches of water, and hunting polar bears. The
fearless Hottabych dragged one bear aboard the "Ladoga" by the scruff of its
neck. Under his influence the animal soon became as tame and playful as a
cat, and so provided many happy hours for both passengers and crew. Now the
bear often tours with circuses, and many of our readers have undoubtedly
seen him. His name is Kuzya.
After stopping off at Rudolph Island, the "Ladoga" began its return
journey. The passengers were worn out from the mass of new impressions, from
the sun which shone round the clock from the frequent fogs and endless
crashing of ice against the stem and sides of the ship. At each stop there
were less and less passengers who wished to go ashore on deserted islands,
and towards the end of the journey our friends and two or three other
tireless explorers were the only ones to take advantage o a chance to climb
the inhospitable cliffs.
One morning the captain said, "Well, this is the last time you're going
ashore. There's no sense stopping the ship for six or seven people."
That is why Volka talked the others going ashore into staying there as
long as possible, in order to really have one good last look at the islands.
They could do it in peace since Hottabych, who was usually in a rush to get
back, was staying behind to play chess with the captain.
"Volka," Zhenya said mysteriously when they dragged their feet aboard
the "Ladoga" three hours later. "Come on down to the cabin! I want to show
you something. Here, look at this," he continued, after shutting the door
tightly. He pulled a longish object from under his coat. "What d'you think
it is? I found it on the opposite side of the island. Right near the water."
Zhenya was holding a small copper vessel the size of a decanter. It was
all green from age and brine.
"We should give it to the captain right away," Volka said excitedly.
"Some expedition probably put a letter inside and threw it into the water,
hoping someone would come to the rescue."
"That's what I thought at first, too, but then I decided nothing would
happen if we opened it first to have a look inside. It's interesting, isn't
it?"
"It sure is."
Zhenya turned pale from excitement. He quickly knocked off the tar-like
substance that covered the mouth of the bottle. Under it was a heavy lead
cap covered with a seal. Zhenya had great difficulty prying it loose.
"And now we'll see what's inside," he said, turning it upside-down over
his berth.
Before he had time to finish the sentence, clouds of black smoke began
pouring from the bottle, filling the entire cabin. It became dark and choky.
Presently, the thick vapour condensed and became an unsightly old man with
an angry face and a pair of eyes that burnt like coals. He fell to his knees
and knocked his forehead on the floor so hard that the things hanging on the
cabin wall swayed as if the ship was rolling.
"0 Prophet of Allah, do not kill me!" he shouted.
"I'd like to ask you something," a frightened but curious Volka
interrupted his wailing. "If I'm not mistaken, you mean the former King
Solomon, don't you?"
"Yes, 0 miserable youth! Sulayman, the Son of David (may the days of
the twain be prolonged on earth!)."
"I don't know about who's miserable," Volka objected calmly, "but as
far as your Sulayman is concerned-his days can in no way be prolonged.
That's out completely: he's dead."
"You lie, wretch, and will pay dearly for it!"
"There's nothing to get mad about. That Eastern king die two thousand
nine hundred and nineteen years ago. You ca look it up in the
Encyclopaedia."
"Who opened the bottle?" the old man asked in a business like way,
having obviously accepted Volka's information an not appearing to be too
saddened by it.
"I did, but you really shouldn't thank me," Zhenya said modestly.
"There is no God but Allah!" the stranger exclaimed. "Rejoice, 0
undeserving brat."
"Why should I rejoice? It's you who've been freed from your prison, and
you should be the one to rejoice. What's there for me to rejoice about?"
"Rejoice, because you must die an ill death this very hour"
"That's what I call real mean! After all, I freed you from the copper
vessel. If not for me, who-knows how many thousands of years longer you'd
have to lie around in smoke and soot."
"Don't tire me with idle chatter! Ask of me only what mode of death you
choose and in what manner I shall slay you! Gr-r-r!
"I'll thank you not to act so fierce! And anyway, what's that all
about?" Zhenya flared up.
"Know, 0 undeserving boy, that I am one of the Genies who disobeyed
Sulayman, David's Son (on the twain be peace!), whereupon Sulayman sent his
minister, Asaf, son of Barakhiya, to seize me. And this Vizier brought me
against my will and led me in bonds to Sulayman and he placed me standing
before him. When Sulayman saw me, he sent for this bottle, shut me up
therein and stoppered it over with lead."
"Good for him!" Zhenya whispered to Volka.
"What are you whispering about?" the old man asked suspiciously.
"Nothing, nothing at all," Zhenya answered hurriedly.
"Take care!" the old man warned. "I am not one to have tricks played
upon me. To continue: he imprisoned me in the bottle and ordered his Genies
to throw me into the ocean. There I abode a hundred years, during which time
I said in my heart, 'Whoso shall release me, him will I enrich for ever and
ever.' But the full century went by and, when no one set me free, I entered
upon the second five score saying, 'Whoso shall release me, for him I shall
open the hoards of the Earth.' Still, no one set me free, and thus four
hundred years passed away. Then quoth I, 'Whoso shall release me, for him
will I fulfil three wishes.' Yet ho one set me free. Thereupon I waxed wroth
and said to myself, 'Whoso shall release me from this time forth, him will I
slay, and I will give him choice of what death he will die,' and now, as you
have released me, I give you full choice of death."
"But it's not at all logical to kill your saviour! It's illogical and
downright ungrateful," Zhenya objected heatedly.
"Logic has nothing to do with it," the Genie interrupted harshly.
"Choose the death that most appeals to you and do not detain me, for I am
terrible in my wrath!"
"May I ask you something?" Volka said, raising his hand.
But the Genie glared at him so frightfully, it made Volka's knees
tremble.
"Well then, will you at least permit me to ask a question?" Zhenya
pleaded with such despair that the Genie relented.
"All right. But be brief."
"You say that you spent several thousand years in this copper vessel,
but it's even too small to hold your hand. How should the whole of you fit
in it?"
"What! Do you not believe that I was there?"
"I'll never believe it until I see you inside with my own eyes."
"Well then, look and be convinced," the Genie roared. He shook and
became a smoke which condensed and entered the jar little by little, while
the boys clapped softly in excitement.
More than half the vapour had disappeared into the vessel. Zhenya, with
bated breath, had the stopper ready to imprison the Genie once again, but
the old man seemed to change his mind, for he filtered out again and assumed
a human form.
"Oh, no you don't!" he said, squinting slyly and shaking a hooked and
dirty finger in front of Zhenya's face, while the boy hurriedly slipped the
stopper in his pocket. "You didn't want to outsmart me, did you, 0
despicable brat? What a terrible memory I have! I nearly forgot that a
thousand one hundred and forty-two years ago a fisherman fooled me in just
the same manner. He asked me the very same question and I trustingly wished
to prove that I had indeed been in the vessel. So I turned into smoke again
and entered the jar, while the fisherman snatched up the leaden cap with the
seal and stoppered therewith the mouth of it. Then he tossed it back into
the sea. Oh no, you can't play that trick on me twice!"
"Why, I had no intention of fooling you," Zhenya lied in a shaky voice,
feeling that now he was a goner for sure.
"Hurry and choose what manner of death you will die and detain me no
longer, for I am weary of all this talk!"
"All right," Zhenya said after thinking a bit. "But promise me that
I'll die in exactly the way I choose."
"I swear!" the Genie promised solemnly and his eyes burnt with a
devilish fire.
"Well, then," Zhenya said and swallowed hard. "Well then... I want to
die of old age."
"Good for you!" Volka shouted.
The Genie turned purple from rage and cried, "But your old age is still
very far off. You are still so young!"
"That's all right," Zhenya answered courageously, "I can wait."
When Volka heard this, he laughed happily, but the Genie began to curse
in Arabic as he dashed back and forth in the cabin, tossing aside everything
in his way in helpless rage.
This went on for a good five minutes until he finally seemed to come to
a decision. He laughed so fiendishly as to give the boys goose-pimples.
Standing before Zhenya, he said maliciously:
"There is no denying it, you are cunning. But Omar Asaf ibn Hottab is
more cunning than you, 0 despicable one."
"Omar Asaf ibn Hottab?" the boys cried in unison. The Genie was
trembling with wrath and bellowed:
"Silence! Or I'll destroy you immediately! Yes, I am Omar Asaf ibn
Hottab, and I am more cunning than this brat! I'll fulfil his wish and he
will surely die of old age. But," he said, looking at the boys triumphantly,
"his old age will come upon him before you count to a hundred!"
"Help!" Zhenya cried in his usual voice. "Help!" he groaned in a deep
basso a few seconds later. "Help!" he squeaked in a trembling old man's
voice a few" moment's later. "Help! I'm dying!"
Volka looked on horror-struck as Zhenya quickly turned into a youth,
then into a grown man with a long black beard; then his beard turned to grey
and he became middle-aged; and, finally, he became a bald, bony, scrawny old
man. All would have been over in a few seconds if Omar Asaf, who was
gleefully watching Zhenya's quick deterioration, had not exclaimed:
"Oh, if my unfortunate brother were only here now! How happy he would
be at my triumph!"
"Wait!" Volka shouted. "Tell me, was your brother's name Hassan
Abdurrakhman?"
"How did you discover that?" Omar Asaf asked in amazement. "Do not
remind me of him, for my heart is rent at the memory of poor Hassan. Yes, I
had a brother named so, but all the worse for you, for reopening my terrible
wounds!"
"If I tell you your brother is alive and bring him to you, alive and
healthy, will you spare Zhenya then?"
"Oh, if I could only see my dear Hassan! Oh, then your friend would
remain alive until he aged naturally and that will not happen for many and
many a year. But if you deceive me ... I swear, neither of you will escape
my rightful wrath!"
"Then wait a minute, just one minute!" Volka shouted.
A few moments later, he rushed into the lounge where Hottabych was
engrossed in his game of chess with the captain.
"Dear Hottabych, hurry! Let's run back to the cabin, there's a great
joy awaiting you there."
"I can think of no greater joy than to check-mate my sweetest friend,
the captain," Hottabych replied solemnly, studying the board intently.
"Hottabych, we can't spare a minute! I beg you, come below with me!"
"All right," Hottabych replied and moved his castle. "Check! Run along,
Volka. I'll be with you as soon as I win, and, according to my calculations,
this will be in about three more moves."
"We'll see about that yet," the captain replied cheerfully. "Three
moves indeed! Just you let me see...."
"Yes, yes, do see," the old man chuckled. "You won't think of anything
anyway. I can wait. I'll be only too happy to wait."
"We've no time to wait!" Volka wailed in despair, and knocked all the
figures off the board. "If you don't come below with me this minute, both
Zhenya and I will die a horrible death! Hurry! Run!"
"You're behaving atrociously," Hottabych grumbled, but followed Volka
out nonetheless.
"That means it's a draw!" the captain shouted happily, pleased to have
escaped a completely hopeless situation.
"No, sir! What do you mean a draw?" Hottabych objected and was ready to
turn back.
But Volka shouted angrily:
"Sure it's a draw! It's a typical draw!" and shoved the old man into
their cabin, where Omar Asaf was about to fulfil his terrible threat.
"Who's the old man?" Hottabych asked, seeing a decrepit old man moaning
on the berth. Actually, but a few short moments ago, he had been a
thirteen-year-old boy named Zhenya Bogorad. "And who's that other old man?"
he continued, noticing Omar Asaf. Suddenly he turned pale. Not trusting his
eyes, he took several hesitant steps forward and whispered, "Salaam, sweet
Omar!"
"Is that you, 0 my dear Hassan Abdurrakhman?" Omar Asaf cried.
The brothers fell into each other's arms, for they had been separated
for nearly three thousand years.
At first, Volka was so touched by this unusual meeting of brothers in
the midst of the Arctic icebergs, and so happy for Hottabych's sake, that he
completely forgot about the unfortunate Zhenya. Soon a barely audible groan
from the berth reminded him that urgent aid was needed.
"Help!" he cried and rushed to separate Hottab's two sons. "A person's
dying and they...."
"Help, I'm dying! "the old man Zhenya croaked, as if to corroborate
Volka's words. Hottabych looked at him in surprise and asked:
"Who is this white-haired old man, and how does he come to be lying in
our friend Zhenya's bed?"
"But this is Zhenya," Volka wailed. "Save him, Hottabych!"
"I beg your pardon, 0 dearest Hassan," Omar Asaf said irritably to his
newly-found brother. "I shall have to interrupt these pleasant moments of
reunion in order to fulfil my promise."
With these words he went over to the berth, touched Zhenya's shoulder,
and hissed:
"Ask forgiveness before it is too late."
"Forgiveness? Of whom?" the old man Zhenya croaked.
"Of me, 0 despicable youth!"
"What for?"
"For trying to trick me."
"You should ask my forgiveness," Zhenya objected. "I saved you and you
want to kill me for it. I won't ask your forgiveness!"
"Be it as you wish," Omar Asaf agreed maliciously. "I do not insist.
But bear in mind that you shall die in a few seconds if you do not."
"So what? Who cares?" Zhenya whispered proudly if weakly, though he
certainly did care.
"Omar, my sweet!" Hottabych interrupted kindly but firmly. "Don't cloud
our long-awaited reunion by a dishonest act. You must immediately and
unconditionally fulfil the promise given to my precious friend, Volka ibn
Alyosha. And please bear in mind that the most noble Zhenya is a very good
friend of mine to."
Omar Asaf ground his teeth in helpless rage. Yet, he took hold of
himself and muttered:
"Change, 0 insolent youth, and be as you were before!" "Now you're
talking," Zhenya said.
Everyone present had the pleasure of witnessing a most unusual sight: a
dying old man turned into a thirteen-year-old boy.
First, his withered, sunken cheeks became rosy; then, his bald head was
covered with white hair which soon turned black, as did his heavy beard.
Feeling stronger, Zhenya hopped off the berth and winked at his friends
happily. Standing before them was a husky man of forty, who differed from
other men of his age in that his beard kept on shrinking until it finally
turned into a barely noticeable fringe of fluff which soon disappeared
completely. The man was becoming smaller in height and narrower in the
shoulders. Finally, he took on Zhenya Bogorad's usual appearance.
Thus, Zhenya was now the only person in the world who could say. "Long
ago. when I was still an old man," the same as millions of old men say,
"When I was still a young rascal."
"There's one thing I can't understand," Omar Asaf said thoughtfully as
he shivered with cold. "I clearly heard Sulayman's Genies say, 'Let's throw
him-meaning me-into the West Ethiopian Sea.' That's why I thought that if I
was ever lucky enough to look upon the sun and earth again, it would be near
the shores of sunny Africa. But this," and he pointed to the island fast
disappearing through the port-hole, "this is not at all like Africa. Isn't
it so, my dear brother Hassan?"
"You are right, my dear Omar Asaf, one so pleasing to my heart. We are
now near other shores, quite a distance from Africa. We are now...."
"I know! Really, I know!" Volka interrupted and did a jig from
excitement. "Golly! Now I know! Now I know!"
"What do you know?" Omar Asaf asked haughtily.
"Now I know how you came to be in the Arctic."
"0 insolent and boastful boy, how unpleasant I find your undue pride!"
Omar Asaf said in disgust. "How can you understand something which remains a
mystery even to me, the wisest and most powerful of all Genies! Well then,
express your opinion, so that I and my dear brother may have a good laugh at
your expense."
"That's as you wish. You can laugh if you want to. But it's all because
of the Gulf Stream."
"Because of what?" Omar Asaf asked acidly.
"The Gulf Stream, the warm current which brought you to the Arctic from
the Southern Seas."
"What nonsense!" Omar Asaf smirked, turning to his brother for support.
But his brother said nothing.
"It's not rubbish at all," Volka began.
But Omar Asaf corrected him:
"I did not say 'rubbish,' I said 'nonsense.' "
"It's neither rubbish nor nonsense," Volka replied with annoyance. "I
got an 'A' in geography for the Gulf Stream."
Since Zhenya supported Volka's scientific theory, Hottabych also
supported him.
Omar Asaf, seeing that he was a minority of one, pretended to agree
about the Gulf Stream, but actually concealed a grudge against Volka and his
friend.
"I am tired of arguing with you, 0 conceited boy," he said, forcing a
yawn. "I am tired and want to sleep. Hurry and bring a fan and keep away the
flies while I rest."
"In the first place, there are no flies here. In the second place, what
right have you to order me about?" Volka asked indignantly.
"There will be flies soon enough," Omar Asaf muttered through clenched
teeth. And sure enough, swarms of flies began buzzing about the cabin.
"We can manage without a fan," Volka said in a friendlier tone, making
believe he did not understand the humiliating nature of Omar Asaf's demand.
He opened first the door, then the port-hole; a strong draught carried
the flies out into the corridor.
"All the same, you'll fan me!" Omar Asaf said capriciously, ignoring
Hottabych's attempts at calming him.
"No, I won't! No one has ever made me fulfil humiliating orders."
"Then I'll be the first to do so."
"No you won't!"
"Omar, my sweet!" Hottabych said, trying to avert the imminent quarrel.
But Omar Asaf, who had turned black with rage, waved him away angrily.
"I'd rather die than fulfil your whims!" Volka shouted.
"Then you'll die very soon, as soon as the Sun sets," Omar Asaf
announced, smiling disgustingly.
Suddenly, Volka had a wonderful idea.
"If that's the case, then tremble, you despicable Genie!" he shouted in
his most terrible voice. "You have tried my patience too long, and I must
stop the Sun! It will not go down today, or tomorrow, or the day after. You
have only yourself to blame!"
Volka was taking a big chance. If Hottabych had had time to tell his
brother that the Arctic Sun shone twenty-four hours a day at this time of
the year, then all was lost.
But in reply to Volka's words, Omar Asaf scoffed, "Braggart of
braggarts! Boaster of boasters! I, too, like to boast at times, but even in
my greatest rage I have never promised to stop the course of that great
celestial body. Not even Sulayman, the Son of David (on the twain be
peace!), could do that."
Volka saw that he was saved. And not only saved, but that he could take
Hottabych's disagreeable brother in hand.
Hottabych, meanwhile, winked approvingly at Volka. As for Zhenya, there
is no need to say he was delighted. He had guessed Volka's idea and was
aglow from excitement, anticipating Omar Asaf's imminent downfall.
"Rest assured, Omar Asaf. If I said I'll stop the Sun, you can be sure
it won't go down today."
"You brat!" Omar Asaf snapped.
"You're a brat yourself!" Volka replied as arrogantly. "Don't worry,
I'll take care of the Sun."
"But what if it goes down anyway?" Omar Asaf asked, choking with
laughter.
"If it goes down, I will henceforth fulfil your most stupid orders."
"Oh, no," Omar Asaf said triumphantly. "If the Sun, despite your
conceited promise, does go down-and this will obviously happen-then I will
eat you up. I'll eat you, bones and all!"
"And my slippers too," Volka added courageously. "But if the Sun does
not go down today, will you obey my every command?"
"If the Sun does not go down, I will do so with the greatest pleasure,
0 most boastful and insignificant of magicians! But- ha-ha-ha-alas! This
will never happen."
"It's still an open question as to who will say 'alas!' a few hours
from now," Volka cautioned.
"Well then!" Omar Asaf said, shaking his finger in warning. "According
to the present position of the Sun, it should go down in another eight or
nine hours. I am even a tiny bit sorry for you, 0 shameless milksop, for you
have less than twelve hours to live."
"You can save your pity; you'd better pity yourself."
Omar Asaf giggled scornfully, revealing two rows of small yellow teeth.
"What awful teeth," Hottabych sighed. "Omar, why don't you get yourself
gold teeth, like I have?" It was only then that Omar Asaf noticed
Hottabych's unusual teeth, and his soul was filled with the blackest envy.
Hottabych was about to turn round to see what it was, but Volka wailed:
"Don't turn around! Please, don't turn around! Hottabych, my sweet,
dear Hottabych!"
Nevertheless, the old man did turn around.
Coming towards them, arm in arm with another elderly lady, was Varvara
Stepanovna Koltsova, an Honoured Teacher of the Republic, the 6B geography
teacher of Moscow Secondary School No. 245.
Hottabych approached her slowly. With a practised gesture he yanked a
hair from his beard, and then another.
"Don't!" Volka yelled in horror, as he grabbed Hottabych's hand. "She's
not to blame! You've no right to!"
Zhenya silently tackled Hottabych from the rear and gripped him as
firmly as he could.
The old man's companion looked at this strange scene in utter
amazement.
"Boys!" Varvara Stepanovna commanded, apparently not at all surprised
at meeting her pupils on the ice-breaker. "Behave yourselves! Leave the old
man alone! Didn't you hear me?! Kostylkov! Bogorad! Do you hear?"
"He'll turn you into a toad if we do!" Volka cried frantically, feeling
that he could not manage Hottabych.
"Or into a chopping-block on which butchers carve mutton!" Zhenya
added. "Run, Varvara Stepanovna! Hurry up and hide before he breaks loose!
What Volka said is true!"
"What nonsense!" Varvara Stepanovna said, raising her voice. "Children,
did you hear what I said?!"
By then Hottabych had wrenched free from his young friends and quickly
tore the hairs in two. The boys shut their eyes in horror.
However, they opened them when they heard Varvara Stepanovna thanking
someone. She was holding a bouquet of flowers and a large bunch of ripe
bananas.
Hottabych replied by bowing with a nourish and touching first his
forehead and then his heart.
When they were back in their cabin, the three friends had a show-down.
"Oh, Volka, why didn't you tell me right away, right after the
examination, the very first day of our happy acquaintance, that I failed you
by my over-confident and ignorant prompting? You've offended me. If you had
only told me, I wouldn't have bothered you with my annoying gratitude. Then
you could have easily prepared for your re-examination, as is becoming an
enlightened youth like you."
So spoke Hottabych, and there was real hurt in his voice.
"But you'd have turned Varvara Stepanovna into a chopping-block for
carving mutton. No, Hottabych, I know you only too well. We spent all these
days in terrible fear for her life. Tell me, would you have changed her into
a chopping-block?"
Hottabych sighed.
"Yes, I would have, there's no use denying it. Either that or into a
terrible toad."
"See! Is that what she deserves?"
"Why, if anyone ever dares to turn this noble woman into a
chopping-block or a toad he'll have to deal with me first!" the old man
cried hotly and added, "I bless the day you induced me to learn the alphabet
and taught me how to read the papers. Now I am always up-to-date and well
informed on which sea is being built, and where. And I also bless the day
Allah gave me the wisdom to 'filch' your geography book-that's the right
expression, isn't it, 0 Volka? For that truly wise and absorbing book has
opened before me the blessed expanses of true science and has saved me from
administering that which I, in my blindness, considered a deserving
punishment for your highly respected teacher. I mean Varvara Stepanovna."
"I guess that takes care of that!" Volka said.
"It sure does," Zhenya agreed.
They were having good sailing weather. For three days and three nights
they sailed in open seas and only towards the end of the third day did they
enter a region of scattered ice.
The boys were playing checkers in the lounge, when an excited Hottabych
burst in on them, holding on to the brim of his old straw hat.
"My friends," he said with a broad smile, "go and have a look: the
whole world, as far as the eye can see, is covered with sugar and diamonds!"
We can excuse Hottabych these funny words, as never before in his
nearly forty centuries of living had he seen a single mound of ice worth
speaking of.
Everyone in the lounge rushed on deck and discovered thousands of
snow-white drifting ice-floes sparkling and glittering in the bright rays of
the midnight sun, moving silently towards the "Ladoga." Soon the first
ice-floes crunched and crashed against the rounded steel stem of the boat.
Late that night (but it was as bright and sunny as on a clear noonday)
the passengers saw a group of islands in the distance. This was the first
glimpse they had of the majestic and sombre panorama of Franz Joseph Land.
They saw the gloomy, naked cliffs and mountains covered with glittering
glaciers which resembled sharp, pointed clouds that had been pressed close
to the harsh land.
"It's time to go to bed, I guess," Volka said when everyone had had his
fill of looking at the far islands. "There's really nothing to do, but I
don't feel like sleeping. It all comes from not being used to sleeping while
the sun is shining!"
"0 blessed one, it seems to me that it is not the sun which is
interfering, but something else entirely," Hottabych suggested timidly.
However, no one paid attention to his words.
For a while, the boys wandered up and down the decks. There were less
and less people aboard. Finally they, too, went back to their cabin. Soon
the only people on the ship who were not asleep were the crew members on
duty.
It was quiet and peaceful aboard the "Ladoga." From every cabin there
came the sound of snoring or deep breathing, as if this were not taking
place on a ship some two and a half thousand kilometres from the mainland,
in the harsh and treacherous Barents Sea, but in a cosy rest home somewhere
near Moscow, during the afternoon "quiet hour." The shades were drawn on the
port-holes, just as on the windows in rest homes, to keep out the bright
sunshine.
However, it soon became clear that there was a very tangible difference
between the "Ladoga" and a rest home. Apart from the Crimean earthquake,
old-timers at rest homes do not recall having been tossed out of their beds
in their sleep. The passengers had just fallen asleep when a sharp jerk
threw them from their berths.
That very moment the steady hum of the engines stopped. In the silence
which followed, one could hear the slamming of doors and the sound of
running feet, as the people rushed out of their cabins to find out what had
happened. There were shouts of command coming from the deck. Volka was lucky
in tumbling out of the top berth without major injuries. He immediately
jumped to his feet and began to rub his sore spots. As he was still half
asleep, he decided that it had been his own fault and was about to climb up
again when the murmur of anxious voices coming from the corridor convinced
him that the reason was much more serious than he thought.
"Perhaps we hit an underground reef?" he wondered, pulling on his
clothes. This thought, far from frightening him, gave him a strange and
burning feeling of anxious exhilaration. "Golly! This is a real adventure!
Gee! There isn't a single ship within a thousand kilometres, and maybe our
wireless doesn't work!"
He imagined a most exciting picture: they were shipwrecked, their
supplies of drinking water and food were coming to an end, but the
passengers and crew of the "Ladoga" were calm and courageous-as Soviet
people should be. Naturally, he, Volka Kostylkov, had the greatest will
power. Yes, Vladimir Kostylkov could look danger in the face. He would
always be cheerful and outwardly carefree, he would comfort those who were
despondent. When the captain of the "Ladoga" would succumb to the inhuman
strain and deprivation, he, Volka, would rightly take over command of the
ship.
"What has disturbed the sleep so necessary to your young system?"
Hottabych asked and yawned, interrupting Volka's day-dreams.
"I'll find out right away, Hottabych. I don't want you to worry about
anything," Volka said comfortingly and ran off.
Gathered on the spardeck near the captain's bridge were about twenty
half-dressed passengers. They were all discussing something quietly. In
order to raise their spirits, Volka assumed a cheerful, carefree expression
and said courageously:
"Be calm, everyone! Calmness above all! There's no need to panic!"
"That's very true. Those are golden words, young man! And that is why
you should go right back to your cabin and go to sleep without fear," one of
the passengers replied with a smile. "By the way, no one here is feeling at
all panicky."
Everyone laughed, to Volka's considerable embarrassment. Besides, it
was rather chilly on deck and he decided to run down and get his coat.
"Calmness above all!" he said to Hottabych, who was waiting for him
below. "There's no reason to get panicky. Before two days are out, a giant
ice-breaker will come for us and set us afloat once again. We certainly
could have done it ourselves, but can you hear? The engines have stopped
working. Something went wrong, but no one can find out what it is. There
will surely be deprivations, but let's hope that no one will die."
Volka was listening to himself speak with pleasure. He had never dreamt
he could calm people so easily and convincingly.
"0 woe is me!" the old man cried suddenly, shoving his bare feet into
his famous slippers. "If you perish, I'll not survive you. Have we really
come upon a shoal? Alas, alas! It would be much better if the engines were
making noise. And just look at me! Instead of using my magic powers for more
important things, I...."
"Hottabych," Volka interrupted sternly, "tell me this minute: what have
you done?"
"Why, nothing much. It's just that I so wanted you to sleep soundly,
that I permitted myself to order the engines to stop making noise."
"Oh, no!" Volka cried in horror. "Now I know what happened! You ordered
the engines to be still, but they can't work silently. That's why the ship
stopped so suddenly. Take back your order before the boilers explode!"
"I hear and I obey," a rather frightened Hottabych answered shakily.
That very moment the engines began to hum again and the "Ladoga"
continued on its way as before. Meanwhile, the captain, the chief engineer
and everyone else on board were at a loss to explain why the engines had
stopped so suddenly and mysteriously and had resumed working again just as
suddenly and mysteriously.
Only Hottabych and Volka knew what had happened, but for obvious
reasons they said nothing. Not even to Zhenya. But then, Zhenya had slept
soundly through it all.
"If there was ever an international contest to see who's the soundest
sleeper, I bet Zhenya would get first prize and be the world champion,"
Volka said.
Hottabych giggled ingratiatingly, though he had no idea what a contest
was, and especially an international one, or what a champion was. But he was
trying to appease Volka.
Yet, this in no way staved off the unpleasant conversation. Volka sat
down on the edge of Hottabych's berth and said:
"You know what? Let's have a man-to-man talk."
"I am all ears, 0 Volka," Hottabych replied with exaggerated
cheerfulness.
"Did you ever try counting how many years older you are than me?"
"Somehow, the thought never entered my head, but if you permit me to,
I'll gladly do so."
"Never mind, I figured it out already. You're three thousand, seven
hundred and nineteen years older than me-or exactly two hundred and
eighty-seven times! And when people see us together on the deck or in the
lounge they probably think: how nice it is that these boys have such a
respectable, wise and elderly gentleman to keep an eye on them. Isn't that
right? What's the matter? Why don't you answer?"
But Hottabych, hanging his unruly grey head, seemed to have taken a
mouthful of water.
"But how do things really stand? Actually, I find that I'm suddenly
responsible for your life and the lives of all the passengers, because since
it was me who let you out of the bottle an since you nearly sank a whole
ice-breaker, it means I'm responsible for everything. I deserve to have my
head chopped off."
"Just let anyone try to chop off such a noble head as yours! Hottabych
cried.
"All right, never mind that. Don't interrupt. To continue: Pi sick and
tired of your miracles. There's no doubt about it, you're really a very
mighty Genie (Hottabych puffed out his chest), bi as concerns modern times
and modern technical development; you don't know much more than a new-born
babe. Is the clear?"
"Alas, it is."
"Well then, let's agree: whenever you feel like performing some
miracle, consult other people."
"I'll consult you, 0 Volka, and if you won't be on hand, or : you're
busy preparing for a re-examination (Volka winced), the I'll consult
Zhenya."
"Do you swear?"
"I swear," the old man exclaimed and struck his chest wit his fist.
"And now, back to bed," Volka ordered.
"Aye, aye, Sir!" Hottabych answered loudly. He had already managed to
pick up some nautical terms.
By morning the "Ladoga" had entered a zone of heavy fogs. ; crawled
ahead slowly and every five minutes its siren wailed loudly, breaking the
eternal silence.
This was done in accordance with the rules of navigation. then it is
foggy, all vessels must sound their fog horns, no matter whether they are in
the busiest harbours or in the empty wastes of the Arctic Ocean. This is
done to prevent collisions.
The sound of the "Ladoga's" siren depressed the passengers.
It was dull and damp on deck, and boring in the cabins. That is why
every seat in the lounge was occupied. Some passengers were playing chess,
some were playing checkers, others were reading. Then they tired of these
pastimes, too. Finally they decided to sing.
They sang all together and one at a time; they danced to the
accompaniment of a guitar and an accordion. A famous Uzbek cotton-grower
danced to an accompaniment provided by Zhenya. There really should have been
a tambourine, but since there was none, Zhenya tapped out the rhythm quite
well on an enamelled tray. Everyone was pleased except the Uzbek, but he was
very polite and praised Zhenya, too. Then a young man from a Moscow factory
began doing card tricks. This time everyone except Hottabych thought it was
grand.
He called Volka out into the corridor.
"Permit me, 0 Volka, to entertain these kind people with several simple
miracles."
Volka recalled how these "simple miracles" had nearly ended in the
circus and protested vigorously, "Don't even think of it!" Finally, however,
he agreed, because Hottabych was looking at him with such sad-dog eyes.
"All right, but remember-just card tricks and maybe something with the
ping-pong balls, if you want to."
"I shall never forget your wise generosity," Hottabych said gratefully,
and they returned to the lounge. The young worker was in the midst of a
really good trick. He offered anyone in the audience to choose a card, look
at it, replace it, and then shuffle the deck. Then he shuffled it too, and
the top card always turned out to be the right one.
After he had received his well-earned applause and returned to his
seat, Hottabych asked to be permitted to entertain the gathering with
several simple tricks. That's how the boastful old man put it-simple.
Naturally, everyone agreed. They applauded before he even began.
Bowing smartly to all sides like an old-timer on the stage, Hottabych
took two ping-pong balls from a table and threw them into the air. Suddenly,
there were four balls; he threw them up again and they became eight, then
thirty-two. He began juggling all thirty-two balls, and then they
disappeared and were found to be in thirty-two pockets of thirty-two people
in the audience. Then they flew out of the pockets, formed a chain and began
spinning around a bowing Hottabych like sputniks until they became a white
hoop. Hottabych put this large hoop on Varvara Stepanovna's lap with a low
bow. The hoop began to flatten out until it turned into a roll of excellent
silk. Hottabych cut it into pieces with Volka's pen-knife. The pieces of
silk flew into the air like birds and wound themselves into turbans of
remarkable beauty around the heads of the amazed audience.
Hottabych listened to the applause blissfully. Then he snapped his
fingers. The turbans turned into pigeons which flew out through the open
port-holes and disappeared. Everyone was now convinced that the old man in
the funny oriental slippers was one of the greatest conjurors.
Hottabych wallowed in the applause. The boys knew him well enough to
understand how dangerous such unanimous and exciting approval was for him.
"Just wait and see! Watch him go to town now," Zhenya whispered in a
worried voice. "I have a funny feeling, that's all."
"Don't worry, we have a very strict agreement on this point."
"One minute, my friends," Hottabych said to the applauding passengers.
"Will you permit me to...."
He yanked a single hair from his beard. Suddenly a shrill whistle
sounded on deck. They could hear the heavy clatter of running feet.
"That's the militia coming to fine someone!" Zhenya joked. "Somebody's
jumped overboard at full speed!" No one had time to laugh, because the
"Ladoga" shuddered and something clanged menacingly below. For the second
time that day the ship came to a stop.
"See! What did I say!" Zhenya hissed and looked at Hottabych with
loathing. "He couldn't control himself. Just look at him boast! Golly! I've
never met a more conceited, boastful and undisciplined Genie in my whole
life!"
"Are you up to your old tricks again, Hottabych? You swore yesterday
that...."
There was such shouting in the lounge that Volka didn't bother lowering
his voice.
"Oh, no! No! Do not insult me with such suspicions, 0 serpent among
boys, for I have never broken the smallest promise, to say nothing of an
oath. I swear I know no more than you do about the reasons for our sudden
stop."
"A snake?" Volka shouted angrily. "Oh, so on top of everything else,
I'm a snake! Thank you, Hottabych! My best merci to you!"
"Not a snake, a serpent, for know ye that a serpent is the living
embodiment of wisdom."
This time the old man was really not to blame. The "Ladoga" had lost
its way in the fog and gone aground. Passengers crowded the deck, but they
had difficulty in even making out the rails. However, by leaning over the
side near the bow they could see the propellers churning up the dark
unfriendly waters.
Half an hour passed, but all attempts to get the ship off the shoal by
putting it in reverse ended in failure. Then the captain ordered the spry
boatswain to pipe all on deck.
Everyone except those standing watch gathered on the spardeck. The
captain said, "Comrades, this is an emergency. There's only one way to get
off the shoal under our own steam and that's transfer the coal from the bow
to the stern; then we'll be able make free of the shoal. If everyone pitches
in, it won't take more than ten or twelve hours to do the job. The boatswain
will divide you into teams. Put on your worst clothes and let's start the
ball rolling.
"You, boys, and you, Hassan Hottabych, need not worry. its is no job
for you: the boys are too young and it's a little too late for you to carry
heavy loads."
"What do you mean by saying I can't carry heavy loads?" Hottabych
replied scornfully. "Please be informed that no one present here can equal
me in weight-lifting, 0 most respected captain."
The other passengers began to smile.
"What an old man!" "Listen to him boast." "Just look at that
muscle-man!"
"There's nothing to laugh at, he feels offended. It's no fun be old."
"See for yourself!" Hottabych shouted. He grabbed his two young friends
and, to the general amazement, began juggling them as if they were plastic
billiard balls stead of sturdy thirteen-year-old boys. The applause which
followed was so deafening, the whole scene might very well have taken place
at a weight-lifting contest and not on board a ship in danger.
"I take my words back," the captain said solemnly after the applause
had died down. "And now, let's get to work! There's time to waste!"
"Hottabych," Volka said, -taking the old man off to a side "what's the
use of dragging coal from one hold to another for twelve long hours? I think
you should do something to get the ship off the shoal."
"That's not within my powers," the old man answered sadly "I thought of
it already. Naturally, I can pull it off the rocks, but then the bottom will
be all scratched and ripped, and I won't b able to fix it, because I never
saw what a ship looks like on the bottom. Then we'll certainly drown in no
time."
"Think again, Hottabych! Maybe you'll think of some thing!"
"I'll try my best, 0 compass of my soul," the old man replied. After a
short pause he asked, "What if I make the rocks disappear?"
"Oh, Hottabych! How smart you are!" Volka said and began to shake his
hand. "That's a wonderful idea."
"I hear and I obey."
The first emergency team was down in the hold, loading the first iron
bins with coal, when the "Ladoga" suddenly lurched and then began to spin
around in a whirlpool over the spot where there had just been a shoal. In
another minute, the ship would have broken to bits, had not Volka sense
enough to tell Hottabych to make the whirlpool disappear. The sea became
calm; the "Ladoga" spun around a while longer from sheer force of inertia.
Then it continued on its way.
Once again, no one but Hottabych and Volka knew what he happened.
Ahead were more exciting days, each unlike the other, as they journeyed
across little-known seas and channels, past bleak islands upon which no
human foot had ever stepped. The passengers often left the ship to go ashore
on deserted cliffs and on islands where polar station teams greeted them
with rifle salvos. Our three friends joined the rest in climbing glaciers,
wandering over the naked stones of basalt plateaux, jumping from ice-floe to
ice-floe over black open patches of water, and hunting polar bears. The
fearless Hottabych dragged one bear aboard the "Ladoga" by the scruff of its
neck. Under his influence the animal soon became as tame and playful as a
cat, and so provided many happy hours for both passengers and crew. Now the
bear often tours with circuses, and many of our readers have undoubtedly
seen him. His name is Kuzya.
After stopping off at Rudolph Island, the "Ladoga" began its return
journey. The passengers were worn out from the mass of new impressions, from
the sun which shone round the clock from the frequent fogs and endless
crashing of ice against the stem and sides of the ship. At each stop there
were less and less passengers who wished to go ashore on deserted islands,
and towards the end of the journey our friends and two or three other
tireless explorers were the only ones to take advantage o a chance to climb
the inhospitable cliffs.
One morning the captain said, "Well, this is the last time you're going
ashore. There's no sense stopping the ship for six or seven people."
That is why Volka talked the others going ashore into staying there as
long as possible, in order to really have one good last look at the islands.
They could do it in peace since Hottabych, who was usually in a rush to get
back, was staying behind to play chess with the captain.
"Volka," Zhenya said mysteriously when they dragged their feet aboard
the "Ladoga" three hours later. "Come on down to the cabin! I want to show
you something. Here, look at this," he continued, after shutting the door
tightly. He pulled a longish object from under his coat. "What d'you think
it is? I found it on the opposite side of the island. Right near the water."
Zhenya was holding a small copper vessel the size of a decanter. It was
all green from age and brine.
"We should give it to the captain right away," Volka said excitedly.
"Some expedition probably put a letter inside and threw it into the water,
hoping someone would come to the rescue."
"That's what I thought at first, too, but then I decided nothing would
happen if we opened it first to have a look inside. It's interesting, isn't
it?"
"It sure is."
Zhenya turned pale from excitement. He quickly knocked off the tar-like
substance that covered the mouth of the bottle. Under it was a heavy lead
cap covered with a seal. Zhenya had great difficulty prying it loose.
"And now we'll see what's inside," he said, turning it upside-down over
his berth.
Before he had time to finish the sentence, clouds of black smoke began
pouring from the bottle, filling the entire cabin. It became dark and choky.
Presently, the thick vapour condensed and became an unsightly old man with
an angry face and a pair of eyes that burnt like coals. He fell to his knees
and knocked his forehead on the floor so hard that the things hanging on the
cabin wall swayed as if the ship was rolling.
"0 Prophet of Allah, do not kill me!" he shouted.
"I'd like to ask you something," a frightened but curious Volka
interrupted his wailing. "If I'm not mistaken, you mean the former King
Solomon, don't you?"
"Yes, 0 miserable youth! Sulayman, the Son of David (may the days of
the twain be prolonged on earth!)."
"I don't know about who's miserable," Volka objected calmly, "but as
far as your Sulayman is concerned-his days can in no way be prolonged.
That's out completely: he's dead."
"You lie, wretch, and will pay dearly for it!"
"There's nothing to get mad about. That Eastern king die two thousand
nine hundred and nineteen years ago. You ca look it up in the
Encyclopaedia."
"Who opened the bottle?" the old man asked in a business like way,
having obviously accepted Volka's information an not appearing to be too
saddened by it.
"I did, but you really shouldn't thank me," Zhenya said modestly.
"There is no God but Allah!" the stranger exclaimed. "Rejoice, 0
undeserving brat."
"Why should I rejoice? It's you who've been freed from your prison, and
you should be the one to rejoice. What's there for me to rejoice about?"
"Rejoice, because you must die an ill death this very hour"
"That's what I call real mean! After all, I freed you from the copper
vessel. If not for me, who-knows how many thousands of years longer you'd
have to lie around in smoke and soot."
"Don't tire me with idle chatter! Ask of me only what mode of death you
choose and in what manner I shall slay you! Gr-r-r!
"I'll thank you not to act so fierce! And anyway, what's that all
about?" Zhenya flared up.
"Know, 0 undeserving boy, that I am one of the Genies who disobeyed
Sulayman, David's Son (on the twain be peace!), whereupon Sulayman sent his
minister, Asaf, son of Barakhiya, to seize me. And this Vizier brought me
against my will and led me in bonds to Sulayman and he placed me standing
before him. When Sulayman saw me, he sent for this bottle, shut me up
therein and stoppered it over with lead."
"Good for him!" Zhenya whispered to Volka.
"What are you whispering about?" the old man asked suspiciously.
"Nothing, nothing at all," Zhenya answered hurriedly.
"Take care!" the old man warned. "I am not one to have tricks played
upon me. To continue: he imprisoned me in the bottle and ordered his Genies
to throw me into the ocean. There I abode a hundred years, during which time
I said in my heart, 'Whoso shall release me, him will I enrich for ever and
ever.' But the full century went by and, when no one set me free, I entered
upon the second five score saying, 'Whoso shall release me, for him I shall
open the hoards of the Earth.' Still, no one set me free, and thus four
hundred years passed away. Then quoth I, 'Whoso shall release me, for him
will I fulfil three wishes.' Yet ho one set me free. Thereupon I waxed wroth
and said to myself, 'Whoso shall release me from this time forth, him will I
slay, and I will give him choice of what death he will die,' and now, as you
have released me, I give you full choice of death."
"But it's not at all logical to kill your saviour! It's illogical and
downright ungrateful," Zhenya objected heatedly.
"Logic has nothing to do with it," the Genie interrupted harshly.
"Choose the death that most appeals to you and do not detain me, for I am
terrible in my wrath!"
"May I ask you something?" Volka said, raising his hand.
But the Genie glared at him so frightfully, it made Volka's knees
tremble.
"Well then, will you at least permit me to ask a question?" Zhenya
pleaded with such despair that the Genie relented.
"All right. But be brief."
"You say that you spent several thousand years in this copper vessel,
but it's even too small to hold your hand. How should the whole of you fit
in it?"
"What! Do you not believe that I was there?"
"I'll never believe it until I see you inside with my own eyes."
"Well then, look and be convinced," the Genie roared. He shook and
became a smoke which condensed and entered the jar little by little, while
the boys clapped softly in excitement.
More than half the vapour had disappeared into the vessel. Zhenya, with
bated breath, had the stopper ready to imprison the Genie once again, but
the old man seemed to change his mind, for he filtered out again and assumed
a human form.
"Oh, no you don't!" he said, squinting slyly and shaking a hooked and
dirty finger in front of Zhenya's face, while the boy hurriedly slipped the
stopper in his pocket. "You didn't want to outsmart me, did you, 0
despicable brat? What a terrible memory I have! I nearly forgot that a
thousand one hundred and forty-two years ago a fisherman fooled me in just
the same manner. He asked me the very same question and I trustingly wished
to prove that I had indeed been in the vessel. So I turned into smoke again
and entered the jar, while the fisherman snatched up the leaden cap with the
seal and stoppered therewith the mouth of it. Then he tossed it back into
the sea. Oh no, you can't play that trick on me twice!"
"Why, I had no intention of fooling you," Zhenya lied in a shaky voice,
feeling that now he was a goner for sure.
"Hurry and choose what manner of death you will die and detain me no
longer, for I am weary of all this talk!"
"All right," Zhenya said after thinking a bit. "But promise me that
I'll die in exactly the way I choose."
"I swear!" the Genie promised solemnly and his eyes burnt with a
devilish fire.
"Well, then," Zhenya said and swallowed hard. "Well then... I want to
die of old age."
"Good for you!" Volka shouted.
The Genie turned purple from rage and cried, "But your old age is still
very far off. You are still so young!"
"That's all right," Zhenya answered courageously, "I can wait."
When Volka heard this, he laughed happily, but the Genie began to curse
in Arabic as he dashed back and forth in the cabin, tossing aside everything
in his way in helpless rage.
This went on for a good five minutes until he finally seemed to come to
a decision. He laughed so fiendishly as to give the boys goose-pimples.
Standing before Zhenya, he said maliciously:
"There is no denying it, you are cunning. But Omar Asaf ibn Hottab is
more cunning than you, 0 despicable one."
"Omar Asaf ibn Hottab?" the boys cried in unison. The Genie was
trembling with wrath and bellowed:
"Silence! Or I'll destroy you immediately! Yes, I am Omar Asaf ibn
Hottab, and I am more cunning than this brat! I'll fulfil his wish and he
will surely die of old age. But," he said, looking at the boys triumphantly,
"his old age will come upon him before you count to a hundred!"
"Help!" Zhenya cried in his usual voice. "Help!" he groaned in a deep
basso a few seconds later. "Help!" he squeaked in a trembling old man's
voice a few" moment's later. "Help! I'm dying!"
Volka looked on horror-struck as Zhenya quickly turned into a youth,
then into a grown man with a long black beard; then his beard turned to grey
and he became middle-aged; and, finally, he became a bald, bony, scrawny old
man. All would have been over in a few seconds if Omar Asaf, who was
gleefully watching Zhenya's quick deterioration, had not exclaimed:
"Oh, if my unfortunate brother were only here now! How happy he would
be at my triumph!"
"Wait!" Volka shouted. "Tell me, was your brother's name Hassan
Abdurrakhman?"
"How did you discover that?" Omar Asaf asked in amazement. "Do not
remind me of him, for my heart is rent at the memory of poor Hassan. Yes, I
had a brother named so, but all the worse for you, for reopening my terrible
wounds!"
"If I tell you your brother is alive and bring him to you, alive and
healthy, will you spare Zhenya then?"
"Oh, if I could only see my dear Hassan! Oh, then your friend would
remain alive until he aged naturally and that will not happen for many and
many a year. But if you deceive me ... I swear, neither of you will escape
my rightful wrath!"
"Then wait a minute, just one minute!" Volka shouted.
A few moments later, he rushed into the lounge where Hottabych was
engrossed in his game of chess with the captain.
"Dear Hottabych, hurry! Let's run back to the cabin, there's a great
joy awaiting you there."
"I can think of no greater joy than to check-mate my sweetest friend,
the captain," Hottabych replied solemnly, studying the board intently.
"Hottabych, we can't spare a minute! I beg you, come below with me!"
"All right," Hottabych replied and moved his castle. "Check! Run along,
Volka. I'll be with you as soon as I win, and, according to my calculations,
this will be in about three more moves."
"We'll see about that yet," the captain replied cheerfully. "Three
moves indeed! Just you let me see...."
"Yes, yes, do see," the old man chuckled. "You won't think of anything
anyway. I can wait. I'll be only too happy to wait."
"We've no time to wait!" Volka wailed in despair, and knocked all the
figures off the board. "If you don't come below with me this minute, both
Zhenya and I will die a horrible death! Hurry! Run!"
"You're behaving atrociously," Hottabych grumbled, but followed Volka
out nonetheless.
"That means it's a draw!" the captain shouted happily, pleased to have
escaped a completely hopeless situation.
"No, sir! What do you mean a draw?" Hottabych objected and was ready to
turn back.
But Volka shouted angrily:
"Sure it's a draw! It's a typical draw!" and shoved the old man into
their cabin, where Omar Asaf was about to fulfil his terrible threat.
"Who's the old man?" Hottabych asked, seeing a decrepit old man moaning
on the berth. Actually, but a few short moments ago, he had been a
thirteen-year-old boy named Zhenya Bogorad. "And who's that other old man?"
he continued, noticing Omar Asaf. Suddenly he turned pale. Not trusting his
eyes, he took several hesitant steps forward and whispered, "Salaam, sweet
Omar!"
"Is that you, 0 my dear Hassan Abdurrakhman?" Omar Asaf cried.
The brothers fell into each other's arms, for they had been separated
for nearly three thousand years.
At first, Volka was so touched by this unusual meeting of brothers in
the midst of the Arctic icebergs, and so happy for Hottabych's sake, that he
completely forgot about the unfortunate Zhenya. Soon a barely audible groan
from the berth reminded him that urgent aid was needed.
"Help!" he cried and rushed to separate Hottab's two sons. "A person's
dying and they...."
"Help, I'm dying! "the old man Zhenya croaked, as if to corroborate
Volka's words. Hottabych looked at him in surprise and asked:
"Who is this white-haired old man, and how does he come to be lying in
our friend Zhenya's bed?"
"But this is Zhenya," Volka wailed. "Save him, Hottabych!"
"I beg your pardon, 0 dearest Hassan," Omar Asaf said irritably to his
newly-found brother. "I shall have to interrupt these pleasant moments of
reunion in order to fulfil my promise."
With these words he went over to the berth, touched Zhenya's shoulder,
and hissed:
"Ask forgiveness before it is too late."
"Forgiveness? Of whom?" the old man Zhenya croaked.
"Of me, 0 despicable youth!"
"What for?"
"For trying to trick me."
"You should ask my forgiveness," Zhenya objected. "I saved you and you
want to kill me for it. I won't ask your forgiveness!"
"Be it as you wish," Omar Asaf agreed maliciously. "I do not insist.
But bear in mind that you shall die in a few seconds if you do not."
"So what? Who cares?" Zhenya whispered proudly if weakly, though he
certainly did care.
"Omar, my sweet!" Hottabych interrupted kindly but firmly. "Don't cloud
our long-awaited reunion by a dishonest act. You must immediately and
unconditionally fulfil the promise given to my precious friend, Volka ibn
Alyosha. And please bear in mind that the most noble Zhenya is a very good
friend of mine to."
Omar Asaf ground his teeth in helpless rage. Yet, he took hold of
himself and muttered:
"Change, 0 insolent youth, and be as you were before!" "Now you're
talking," Zhenya said.
Everyone present had the pleasure of witnessing a most unusual sight: a
dying old man turned into a thirteen-year-old boy.
First, his withered, sunken cheeks became rosy; then, his bald head was
covered with white hair which soon turned black, as did his heavy beard.
Feeling stronger, Zhenya hopped off the berth and winked at his friends
happily. Standing before them was a husky man of forty, who differed from
other men of his age in that his beard kept on shrinking until it finally
turned into a barely noticeable fringe of fluff which soon disappeared
completely. The man was becoming smaller in height and narrower in the
shoulders. Finally, he took on Zhenya Bogorad's usual appearance.
Thus, Zhenya was now the only person in the world who could say. "Long
ago. when I was still an old man," the same as millions of old men say,
"When I was still a young rascal."
"There's one thing I can't understand," Omar Asaf said thoughtfully as
he shivered with cold. "I clearly heard Sulayman's Genies say, 'Let's throw
him-meaning me-into the West Ethiopian Sea.' That's why I thought that if I
was ever lucky enough to look upon the sun and earth again, it would be near
the shores of sunny Africa. But this," and he pointed to the island fast
disappearing through the port-hole, "this is not at all like Africa. Isn't
it so, my dear brother Hassan?"
"You are right, my dear Omar Asaf, one so pleasing to my heart. We are
now near other shores, quite a distance from Africa. We are now...."
"I know! Really, I know!" Volka interrupted and did a jig from
excitement. "Golly! Now I know! Now I know!"
"What do you know?" Omar Asaf asked haughtily.
"Now I know how you came to be in the Arctic."
"0 insolent and boastful boy, how unpleasant I find your undue pride!"
Omar Asaf said in disgust. "How can you understand something which remains a
mystery even to me, the wisest and most powerful of all Genies! Well then,
express your opinion, so that I and my dear brother may have a good laugh at
your expense."
"That's as you wish. You can laugh if you want to. But it's all because
of the Gulf Stream."
"Because of what?" Omar Asaf asked acidly.
"The Gulf Stream, the warm current which brought you to the Arctic from
the Southern Seas."
"What nonsense!" Omar Asaf smirked, turning to his brother for support.
But his brother said nothing.
"It's not rubbish at all," Volka began.
But Omar Asaf corrected him:
"I did not say 'rubbish,' I said 'nonsense.' "
"It's neither rubbish nor nonsense," Volka replied with annoyance. "I
got an 'A' in geography for the Gulf Stream."
Since Zhenya supported Volka's scientific theory, Hottabych also
supported him.
Omar Asaf, seeing that he was a minority of one, pretended to agree
about the Gulf Stream, but actually concealed a grudge against Volka and his
friend.
"I am tired of arguing with you, 0 conceited boy," he said, forcing a
yawn. "I am tired and want to sleep. Hurry and bring a fan and keep away the
flies while I rest."
"In the first place, there are no flies here. In the second place, what
right have you to order me about?" Volka asked indignantly.
"There will be flies soon enough," Omar Asaf muttered through clenched
teeth. And sure enough, swarms of flies began buzzing about the cabin.
"We can manage without a fan," Volka said in a friendlier tone, making
believe he did not understand the humiliating nature of Omar Asaf's demand.
He opened first the door, then the port-hole; a strong draught carried
the flies out into the corridor.
"All the same, you'll fan me!" Omar Asaf said capriciously, ignoring
Hottabych's attempts at calming him.
"No, I won't! No one has ever made me fulfil humiliating orders."
"Then I'll be the first to do so."
"No you won't!"
"Omar, my sweet!" Hottabych said, trying to avert the imminent quarrel.
But Omar Asaf, who had turned black with rage, waved him away angrily.
"I'd rather die than fulfil your whims!" Volka shouted.
"Then you'll die very soon, as soon as the Sun sets," Omar Asaf
announced, smiling disgustingly.
Suddenly, Volka had a wonderful idea.
"If that's the case, then tremble, you despicable Genie!" he shouted in
his most terrible voice. "You have tried my patience too long, and I must
stop the Sun! It will not go down today, or tomorrow, or the day after. You
have only yourself to blame!"
Volka was taking a big chance. If Hottabych had had time to tell his
brother that the Arctic Sun shone twenty-four hours a day at this time of
the year, then all was lost.
But in reply to Volka's words, Omar Asaf scoffed, "Braggart of
braggarts! Boaster of boasters! I, too, like to boast at times, but even in
my greatest rage I have never promised to stop the course of that great
celestial body. Not even Sulayman, the Son of David (on the twain be
peace!), could do that."
Volka saw that he was saved. And not only saved, but that he could take
Hottabych's disagreeable brother in hand.
Hottabych, meanwhile, winked approvingly at Volka. As for Zhenya, there
is no need to say he was delighted. He had guessed Volka's idea and was
aglow from excitement, anticipating Omar Asaf's imminent downfall.
"Rest assured, Omar Asaf. If I said I'll stop the Sun, you can be sure
it won't go down today."
"You brat!" Omar Asaf snapped.
"You're a brat yourself!" Volka replied as arrogantly. "Don't worry,
I'll take care of the Sun."
"But what if it goes down anyway?" Omar Asaf asked, choking with
laughter.
"If it goes down, I will henceforth fulfil your most stupid orders."
"Oh, no," Omar Asaf said triumphantly. "If the Sun, despite your
conceited promise, does go down-and this will obviously happen-then I will
eat you up. I'll eat you, bones and all!"
"And my slippers too," Volka added courageously. "But if the Sun does
not go down today, will you obey my every command?"
"If the Sun does not go down, I will do so with the greatest pleasure,
0 most boastful and insignificant of magicians! But- ha-ha-ha-alas! This
will never happen."
"It's still an open question as to who will say 'alas!' a few hours
from now," Volka cautioned.
"Well then!" Omar Asaf said, shaking his finger in warning. "According
to the present position of the Sun, it should go down in another eight or
nine hours. I am even a tiny bit sorry for you, 0 shameless milksop, for you
have less than twelve hours to live."
"You can save your pity; you'd better pity yourself."
Omar Asaf giggled scornfully, revealing two rows of small yellow teeth.
"What awful teeth," Hottabych sighed. "Omar, why don't you get yourself
gold teeth, like I have?" It was only then that Omar Asaf noticed
Hottabych's unusual teeth, and his soul was filled with the blackest envy.