Вадим Иванович Кучеренко - The Strait of Death

of them were dragged to the bottom. Whether by themselves, or by some unknown force, I really don't know. And nobody knows. It's just that the ship suddenly loses its buoyancy, and that's it. Even the wreckage of the shipwreck would never found later. One thing I will tell you – it is beyond human understanding.

– Have you tried it yourself?

– You bet! – The old man replied, but there were no longer those boastful notes in his voice. Now there was a genuine respect for that place pernicious for ships, which everyone on the coast called the Strait of Death, not even remembering its official name, marked on the maps. – I survived by a miracle. The only of the whole team. And this is just because, when those weird things began, and our ship suddenly began to crack at all the seams, as if someone was tearing it apart, and everyone started rushing about the deck madly, I tied myself tightly with the tackle to the mast, having kept a flask of water and a few crackers in store.

So, I was carried around the sea for a week, until this damn strait, had played enough with me and threw me ashore, two hundred miles from the crash site. I myself was already like that mast, the skeleton covered with skin, crazy and without memory. But I’ve survived. However, since that time I got blind – either I hit my head, or the sea salt corroded my eyes. And, as I understand now, it was still a small price that the Strait of Death took from me for my life saved. Later on, when I got recovered, I still went to the sea for some time. The only thing I swore not to do is to go to this strait again, no matter how much money I was promised…

In his youth uncle Egor was considered to be the most daring and successful sailor on the entire coast. Many breathtaking stories were told about him, which were still alive today, but were covered with old dust turning into so-called sea stories. People would readily listen to them, but very few would ever believe them. But Anton had no doubt that the old man was not lying. At one time, a quarter of a century ago, he even sailed as a cabin boy on a ship where uncle Egor was a captain, and knew firsthand about his courage and human decency.

At that time he was sure that the old captain was the most fearless person of all who had ever plowed the seas since the creation of the world. Since then, he has grown up and rethought a lot of things. But he still considered uncle Egor his godfather, who made him related to the sea.

– After that I swore no to pass the Strait of Death, – the old sailor repeated. He clenched his small, feeble fist as if threatening someone unknown. – Damn it! How many sea souls it has ruined … No, it is better to pass it by, waste time and money, but reach the port of destination.

– That's right, – Anton briefly confirmed.

But something in his voice made the old man wary. His infirmity of old age had taught him to recognize the true intentions of people, which they tried to hide behind their false words.

– Anton, my boy, – the old man's voice trembled. – What are you up to?

– Nothing, old fellow, – he smiled tightly. – It was just interesting for me to talk to you about the sea. I will never know it the way you do. For real.

– When are you planning to start your voyage?, – asked the old man and even turned to him with his ear that was able to hear better, fearing not to hear the answer.

– Probably tomorrow. Autumn storms have already detained me so much in the port, and there is perishable freight on board. It has never happened before that I couldn’t manage to fulfill the terms of the contract and did not deliver the freight on time.

– Are you going to sail through the Strait of Death? – the old man even hoarsened from a sudden guess.

Anton tried to smile as convincingly as possible shaking his head. But the old sailor did not see his smile. When he heard his stingy “no”, he guessed right.

– Anton, my boy, – the old man suddenly choked with excitement and, overcoming a cough, croaked. – You must take me with you, do you hear me? You must!

The old man's voice was almost begging. Anton lowered his head to hide the tears that involuntarily came to his eyes. An invisible imperious hand squeezed his throat and for some time he could not utter a word.

– My boy! – the old sailor continued in an agitated patter, fearing not having time to say everything he wanted. – I'll help you, do you hear? I remember everything as if it was yesterday. We have sailed through the Straight of Death the farthest who has ever tried to do it in the hurricane season. That's why I managed to survive then, the strait had almost released our schooner from its deadly clutches.

The old man's voice faltered and died down completely. He finished almost in a whisper.

– I have to try again. Go out to sea for the last time …

Uncle Egor's head was powerlessly thrown back against the back of the chair, and he stared at the plank ceiling of the terrace with his sightless eyes. But the old blind sailor saw not the plank ceiling covered with lime – but the endless sea, and the billows rising on its surface, like a woman's breast, sighing deeply and excitedly in the rush of feelings…

A tear fell on Anton's hand and burned it as if it were red-hot. He raised his head sharply, wiped his eyes with his palm in one decisive gesture and said:

– Okay, old man. Get ready! Tomorrow either two days later, we go out to sea.

He easily got up from his chair , which creaked piteously without listening to the grateful words of the old man, gently stroked Uncle Egor on the dry shoulder, not daring to kiss him on the hard and sunken unshaven cheek, since the old man did not like such a manifestation of feelings, calling them "womanish" and unworthy of a sailor. Then he walked quickly from the terrace. Only when he stepped onto the stairs leading down from the terrace to the foot of the hill on which the house was built, he looked back for a moment – and if the old sailor could see, he would have guessed the unspoken word "goodbye" by his trembling lips. But he did not see and even more he couldn’t hear what wasn’t spoken out loudly.

Nor did the old man see that two hours later a ship with the beautiful and proud outfit lines was leaving the port, the only one of the those many ships that had stuck at the berths waiting for good weather. The old sailor was asleep. He was dreaming about the sea… And that was just him who really knew it best of all along the whole coast.

--">