– Now it is possible to begin a reception – he told loudly and, having called the Black, gave an order to call all. It was news too. Sleyton let nobody in the office.
If to the Island of the Lost Ships suddenly there arrived people of other planet, it would make probably not bigger impression. All islanders literally hardened from surprise. Even the historian Lyuders stood, having slightly opened a mouth, with a type of extreme amazement.
When all gathered, Flores addressed with the speech:
– Citizens! Islanders! Friends! Not the feeling of personal vanity forced me to put on this suit, but desire to support nice Ostrov’s dignity of the Lost Ships… We will lift this advantage even above. Assistants are necessary for me for performance of the purposes planned by me. You, O’Gara – and Flores scanned the Irish – are appointed my personal secretary. At reports and on festivals you will be in this camisole; it goes into your full disposal. – And Flores pointed to a beautiful dark blue suit.
O’Gara densely reddened, and Flores not without pleasure noticed that the Irish is flattered.
“One rival it is less” – the new governor thought.
– You, Bokko, are appointed … – Flores rubbed a forehead – too my secretary. There is your court suit.
Bokko respectfully bowed.
“Other rival it is less – Flores noted. – Who else? Людерс? It is harmless, but after all, just in case…”
– And you, Lyuders, you the person scientific, I appoint you, um… the adviser for affairs of colonies. Your rank will suit a camisole of a black velvet with silver.
Surprising thing! Even Lyuders, still less others paying attention to the suit and going in some rags too, probably, was flattered. However appointment extremely surprised him.
– I thank for honor, but what affairs at us with colonies when we are cut off from the whole world?
– Yes, but we can expand our possession, and we will have colonies.
Islanders exchanged glances. Whether the gilded camisole of their new governor demented?
But Flores was quiet and self-confident.
– You know – it continued – that near our Island, in two kilometers other small island from the lost ships is, no more, located. It is close, but still we could not even visit it – sargassa protected it. Now we will organize an expedition and we will attach it to our possession.
All liked this invention, and islanders is noisy expressed approval.
– And one more: we have nothing to postnichat and skarednichat when we are immensely rich. All will be given new suits – for everyday life and holidays. I will give you also gun cartridges, and you will hunt birds; I think, fish bothered all. And that the bird seemed more tasty, we will bake bread and we will drink a barrel of good old Spanish wine!
– Ur-and! Long live governor Flores! – the islanders brought to the highest point of delight shouted, and O’Gara and Bokko is the loudest.
When Flores and Maggie remained one, Maggie looked at the husband with eyes in love and told:
– Listen, Flores, I did not even expect…
– What?
– What you so are able to do…
– It is good to operate? – And Flores, unsociable, eternally gloomy, gloomy Flores laughed.
Chapter 18
SMOKER OF OPIUM
Easy glaucescent fog clouded the Island of the Lost Ships. The broken masts and iron pipes of steamships as ghosts, loomed in fog.
The old man Bokko and Chinese Hao-Zhen sat on the deck of an old brigantine. The Chinese sat not movably as a figurine, having drawn in legs and having put palms of hands on knees, and looked at a tall mast.
Bokko repaired network and with boredom asked the Chinese on his homeland and close people. At last he asked the Chinese whether that was married.
Some shadow ran on a face of the Chinese.
– Was not – he answered and added more quietly: – The bride was, the good girl.
– Well and that you?
– It is impossible – a surname one…
– Relative?
– No. Just surname. Law such.
The careless question Bokko awakened some distant memories in the Chinese’s soul. It was delivered and rose.
– I will go – the Chinese declared.
– Yes where pulls you? Again you will go to smoke the dope? Sidi.
But the Chinese already incorrect, unsteady gait went on a planked footway to the remote bark.
Bokko shook the head:
– The guy will be gone. And so, to what it became similar!
Bokko was not mistaken. Hao-Zhen went to smoke opium. The Chinese somehow found a stock of this poisonous medicine in one of the old ships and since then excitedly indulged in smoking. His face turned pale, became yellow as straw, eyes deeply fell, looked wearily, without expression, hands began to shiver. When learned about his passion, to it most strictly forbade to smoke, being afraid of the fire. Still the captain Sleyton several times cruelly punished Hao-Zhenya, locked him in a hold, starved, demanding that the Chinese gave opium reserves, but could not break persistence of the Chinese. He could be killed rather, than to force to give opium. He well hid stocks and managed to smoke as soon as supervision of it weakened.
Hao-Zhen came to the old bark standing slantwise, at an angle almost in 45°. Under protection of this inclination covering it from looks of islanders it also arranged to itself (himself) курильню at the water.
He prepared by the hands shivering for nervousness everything for smoking and greedy involved sweetish smoke.
And gradually fog began to get a golden shade. Clubs of gold clouds were turned in the long film, and this not a tape, and the river, the great Blue river any more. Yellow fields, yellow rocks, the lodge hollowed in the rock with the paper dragon fluttering downwind at an entrance. The father strugat at the house, on the Chinese custom, not from himself, and to himself. Down the river the fisherman floats, standing aft and rotating an oar. All such close, familiar, native! At the river irises, fine lilac irises blossom.
When Hao-Zhen recovered from a dope, there was a night. Fog dispersed. Only its separate shreds as ghosts, quickly rushed on the North. It was silent. Occasionally fish lapped. Because of the horizon the red moon rose. It was not reflected in water. Seaweed as opaque glass, only poorly gleamed. Only here and there, in small “ice-holes” – in places, free from seaweed – water was lit by moonlight.
Near the island directly on seaweed the silhouette which stood out against the background of the ascending moon clearly moved. The Chinese wiped eyes and began to peer. Familiar figure. Well, of course, it it, late captain Sleyton! On it there is only no jacket. But dead persons do not feel night dampness. Why he wanders here? What it is necessary to it? Hao-Zhenya’s teeth began to beat a tattoo.
In the morning the Chinese whispered on an ear to the friend Bokko:
– The captain went. Sleyton went at night on water. Itself saw. Badly the dead man was buried. Shipko a harm is so the person to bury. Here also goes. It will be bad! The harm will be, m-m-m…
Bokko nodded, with pity looked at the Chinese and thought: “Was gone, the poor creature, absolutely lost mind from a damned potion”.
In several days this conversation