and the tall
masts were outlined against the sky.

"Hey! Who calls?" was again asked. This time the voice was further
away; Tchelkache felt relieved.

"It's you, yourself, friend, who calls!" said he, in the direction of
the voice. Then, he turned to Gavrilo, who continued to murmur a
prayer. "Yes, brother, you're in luck. If those devils had pursued
us, it would have been the end of you. Do you hear? I'd have soon
sent you to the fishes."

Now that Tchelkache again spoke quietly and even good-naturedly,
Gavrilo, still trembling with fear, begged him:

"Listen, let me go! In the name of Christ, let me go. Set me down
somewhere. Oh dear! oh, dear! I'm lost! For God's sake, let me go.
What do you want of me? I can't do this, I've never done anything like
it. It's the first time, Lord! I'm lost! How did you manage,
comrade, to get around me like this? Say? It's a sin, you make me
lose my soul! . . . Ah! what a piece of business!"

"What business?" sternly questioned Tchelkache. "Speak, what business
do you mean?"

The lad's terror amused him; he also enjoyed the sensation of being
able to provoke such fear.

"Dark transactions, brother. . . Let me go, for the love of Heaven.
What am I to you? Friend . . ."

"Be quiet! If I hadn't needed you, I shouldn't have brought you! Do
you understand? Eh! Well, be quiet!"

"Oh, Lord!" sobbed Gavrilo.

"Enough!"

Gavrilo could no longer control himself and his breath came in broken
and painful gasps; he wept and moved restlessly about on his seat, but
rowed hard, in despair. The boat sped ahead like an arrow. Again the
black hulls of the ships arose before them, and the boat, turning like
a top in the narrow channels that separated them, was soon lost among
them.

"Hey! You, listen: If anyone speaks to us, keep still, if you value
your skin. Do you understand?"

"Alas!" hopelessly sighed Gavrilo, in response to this stern command,
and he added: "It was my lot to be lost!"

"Stop howling!" whispered Tchelkache.

These words completely robbed Gavrilo of all understanding and he
remained crushed under the chill presentiment of some misfortune. He
mechanically dipped his oars and sending them back and forth through
the water in an even and steady stroke did not lift his eyes again.

The slumbering murmur of the waves was gloomy and fearsome. Here is
the harbor. . . From behind its stone wall, comes the sound of human
voices, the plashi