The Old Genie Hottabych

THE VESSEL FROM THE PILLARS OF HERCULES

This time Hottabych was true to his word. He had promised he’d be back in two or three hours. At about a quarter to nine his beaming face shot out of the water. The old man was excited. He scrambled up on the beach, carrying a large seaweed-covered metal object over his head.

“I found him, my friends!” he yelled. “I found the vessel in which my unfortunate brother Omar Asaf ibn Hottab has been imprisoned these many centuries — may the sun always shine over him! I scanned the whole sea bottom and was beginning to despair when I noticed this magic vessel in the green vastness near the Pillars of Hercules .”

“What are you waiting for? Hurry up and open it!” Zhenya cried, running up to the exultant old man.

“I dare not open it, for it is sealed with Sulayman’s Seal. Let Volka ibn Alyosha, who freed me, also free my long-suffering little brother. Here’s the vessel which I have spent so many sleepless nights dreaming about!” Hottabych continued, waving his find overhead.

“Here, O Volka, open it, to the joy of my brother Omar and myself!”

Pressing his ear to the side of the vessel, he laughed happily, “Oho, my friends! Omar is signalling to me from within!”

There was envy in Zhenya’s eyes as he watched the old man hand a nattered Volka the vessel, or, rather, lay it at Volka’s feet, since it was so heavy.

“But didn’t you say that Omar was imprisoned in a copper vessel? This one’s made of iron. Oh well, no matter… Where’s the seal? Aha, here it is!” Volka said, inspecting the vessel carefully from all sides.

Suddenly he turned pale and shouted:

“Quick, lie down! Zhenya, lie down! Hottabych, throw it right back into the water and lie down!”

“You’re mad!” Hottabych said indignantly. “I’ve dreamed of our meeting for so many years, and now, after finding him, you want me to throw him back to the waves.”

“Throw it as far out as you can! Your Omar isn’t inside! Hurry, or we’ll all be dead!” Volka pleaded. Since the old man still hesitated, he yelled at the top of his voice, “It is an order! Do you hear?!”

Shrugging in dismay, Hottabych raised the heavy object, heaved it and tossed it at least 200 yards from the shore.

Before he had a chance to turn for an explanation towards Volka, who was standing beside him, there was a terrible explosion at the spot the vessel hit the water. A huge pillar of water rose over the calm surface of the lagoon and fell apart with a loud crash. Thousands of stunned and killed fish floated bellies up on the waves.

People were already running towards them, attracted by the sound of the explosion.

“Let’s run!” Volka commanded.

They hurried to the highway and headed towards the city.

A grieved Hottabych lagged behind and kept turning round constantly. He was still not convinced that he had done right by obeying Volka.

“What did you see on the thing?” Zhenya asked when he had caught up with Volka, who was way ahead of him and Hottabych.

“ ‘Made in USA ,’ that’s what!”

“So it was a bomb.”

“No, it was a mine. There’s a big difference! It was an underwater mine.”

Hottabych sighed sadly.

When Hottabych saw that Omar was not to be found in the Mediterranean Sea, he suggested that they set out to the shores of the Atlantic Ocean . The suggestion in itself was extremely tempting. However, Volka was unexpectedly against it. He said that he had to be in Moscow the following day without fail. But he would not tell them the reason, he just said it was very important. And so, with a heavy heart, Hottabych temporarily put off the search for Omar Asaf.

The “VK-1” magic-carpet-seaplane with Hassan Abdurrakhman ibn Hottab, Volka Kostylkov and Zhenya Bogorad aboard, soared into the air and disappeared beyond the far-off mountains.

Some ten hours later it landed safely on the sloping bank of the Moskva River .