They slowly moved ahead in depth of the island.
Hardly something in the world could be more sad than a show of this enormous cemetery. The sea buries the lost ships, the earth – people. But this cemetery left the dead persons open, at full light of the hot sun. It was necessary to go carefully. The semi-decayed boards shivered under legs. Every minute travelers risked to fail in a hold. On this case each of them had on a rope to give help each other the necessary minute. A handrail fell off. Scraps of sails at one touch were scattered in ashes. Everywhere a thick layer dust of decay and greens of rotting lay… The skeletons glinting in the sun a whiteness of bones or darkening still the remained skin or tatters of clothes lay on many decks. On an arrangement of skeletons, on the broken skulls it was possible to judge that the people who went mad before death quarreled, revolted, aimlessly and cruelly killed each other, revenging someone for sufferings and the ruined life, Each ship witnessed the great tragedy happening on it fifty, hundred, two hundred years ago.
From what inhuman horror, what terrible anguish living owners of the skulls bleached by the sun grinning now in a terrible smile had to suffer! And all of them smiled, smiled to ears…
Even Gatlingu became terribly from these smiling grins, and Simpkins was shaken by fever.
– Let’s leave from here – he asked. – I cannot more!
– Wait, there well remained ship. It is interesting to go down in cabins.
– On ladders which will break off under your legs? – Симпкинс it ozlitsya suddenly. – Gatling! I will not make more to a step. Enough. I ask you not to order me any more. You forgot about the one who you are and who I am! Where you conduct me? What for? to dump somewhere in a hold and thus to get off me without noise! Oh, I know: I disturb you.
Gatling this speech enraged:
– Become silent, Simpkins, or I really will throw you overboard.
– Not so simply – venomously said Simpkins and, having leaned against a wooden protection at a board, directed a revolver barrel to Gatlinga. The Gatling quickly stepped forward, but before he grabbed by Simpkins’s hand, the shot and a sound of the fallen handrail was distributed. The bullet flew by over-headed Gatlinga. At the same time he saw how Simpkins, having ridiculously waved hands, fell overboard together with fragments of the rotted-through handrail. Behind a board deaf splash of water… silence… then Simpkins’s snorting. The Gatling looked overboard. The detective floundered in green porridge of seaweed. Seaweed hanged down in garlands from the head, entangled hands, is tenacious held the victim. Симпкинс strained all efforts to be hooked for a ship covering. After a number of attempts it managed it. But his hands were tired, seaweed pulled down, it is a little more – and it would go to a bottom.
The Gatling departed from a board, sat down on a barrel and lit a tube.
– The Gatling, forgive. I was a silly donkey – heard Gatling Simpkins’s voice, but continued to smoke silently a tube. – … save the Gatling… Гатлинг!
The Gatling approached a board. It fluctuated. Nevertheless the person asks about the help. But what person? The selling detective, the spy who will not stop even after rescue now to betray Gatlinga in hands of the authorities to receive thirty silver coins.
– No, no – and Gatling sat down again and began to smoke strenuously…
– The Gatling, I beg! Gatling! Gatling! – Simpkins groaned.
The Gatling strenuously smoked a tube.
– Ga-at … – and suddenly this shout turned into some choking sobbing.
The Gatling gritted the teeth, rejected a tube and, having untwisted the end of a rope, threw it drowning.
Grabbed with the last efforts of Simpkins a rope, but as soon as Gatling began to drag it, Simpkins broke: seaweed it is tenacious held it, in hands there was no force any more.
– Tie round a rope! – Gatling shouted to it.
Симпкинс somehow tied round, twirled knot and began to rise by the deck.
Facing Gatling, Simpkins was so excited that he only continuously repeated: “Gatling!. Gatling!. Gatling!.” – also gave it a hand.
The Gatling frowned, but, having looked at sincere animal joy in the opinion of saved, good-natured smiled and strong reaped a wet hand.
– I cannot express to you, Gatling…
– Stand – Gatling suddenly pricked up the ears, quickly pulling out the hand – watch, by our steamship smoke from a pipe. Ms. Kingman calls us. There something happened. We run!
Chapter 7
INHABITANTS OF THE ISLAND
Having remained one, Ms. Kingman was accepted to preparation of a breakfast. She cleaned and fried fish hooked by Gatling, went down in a hold and took several oranges in provisions warehouses. When she, with a basket in hands, rose by the deck, saw an unusual picture: behind their dining table – is more true, on a table and chairs – monkeys managed. They squealed, quarreled, rushed cake and thrust to themselves for cheeks pieces of sugar. At appearance of Ms. Kingman they pricked up the ears and with shout receded to a board. Viviana laughed and threw them couple of oranges. It established friendly relations at once. Not without a fight having finished couple of oranges, a chimpanzee, squatting and grimacing, approached Ms. Kingman and began to take safely fruits from it from hands. There was no doubt that they got used to society of people.
And it is valid, people did not keep themselves waiting long.
Absorbed by amusing tricks of unexpected guests, Ms. Kingman did not see how because of a steamship board two heads carefully looked out. Having convinced that on the deck there is nobody, except the woman, unknown quickly got through a board and, having thrown guns on shoulders, began to approach Ms. Kingman.
She screamed from surprise, having taken away this couple.
One of them – the tolstenky, short little man with pale, despite the southern sun, the grown fat, long ago not shaved face – struck at once with some contrasts of a suit and all appearance. On his head there was a bowler hat crumpled, dirty, appearing through in many places. The tuxedo, despite holes and patches, still kept traces of good breed. But trousers had the most pathetic appearance, going down a fringe below knees. The worn-out varnished shoes and the torn fulyarovy bow on a neck supplemented a dress.
Another – high, brawny, suntanned, with a black beard, in a wide-brimmed Mexican hat of a sombrero, in a dark shirt, with hands, naked on an elbow, and in high boots – reminded the Mexican sheep breeder. Its movements were bystra and cuttings.
– Bonzhur, mademoiselle – welcomed Ms. Kingman the fat man, exchanging bows in the most gallant way. – Allow to congratulate you on safe arrival on the Island of the Lost Ships.
– I thank you though I would not call my arrival safe… What it is necessary for you?
– First of all may I introduce myself: Aristide Dode. A surname washing Dode and and, Dode. I am Frenchman…
– Perhaps, relative to the writer Alphonse Dode? – involuntarily Ms. Kingman asked.
– E-e… not that… so… remote… Though I had some relation to literature, so to speak… The largest paper-mills and… wallpaper in the south of France.
– Do not say too much, Ternip – gloomy and angrily said his satellite.
– As you are tactless, Flores! When I teach you to keep in decent society? Also I ask not to call me Ternip.