The Town By The Sea

A LADY WAKES ME

My friends were not back yet—their shops stopped work later than the foundry. Unlike the day before, the weather was blazing, but in Maria Trofimovna's half-dark little kitchen it was surprisingly cool; and even in our little room, though we were right under the roof, the air was fresher than out of doors.

The beach was crowded with people. Some were bathing, their wet limbs glistening in the sun. Others were lying motionless on the sand.

As I watched the scene from the window, I felt like going out myself to lie in the sun until Sasha and Petka arrived, and at the same time to have a wash after work.

J did not think for long. Kicking off my working boots, I rolled my clean clothes in a bundle, put on my cap, and after telling the landlady where I could be found if I was needed, ran out barefoot into the yard.

Il had only been inside the house for a few minutes, but when I came out the sunshine dazzled me and I walked to the gate blinking. The tall hollyhocks seemed to tremble in the heat.

The sun had made the concrete top of the sea wall nearly red-hot. When I had run a few paces along it, I had to jump down on to the sand. But that was even worse. The top layer of sand was so hot that it seemed someone must have warmed it up purposely on a huge frying-pan. Bathers were lying about everywhere, basking in the sun. I did not envy them in the least.

Tired but proud after my first day's work at the factory, I considered them loungers. "While they twist and turn about here, all for nothing, covering their noses with bits of tissue-paper and lilac leaves," I

thought, "we, foundry men, carry about heavy ladles of molten metal." And I felt I had a better right than anyone to rest on the beach.

Near the, water's edge I found a little vacant bench. Somebody's clothes lay at one end, covered with a folded blanket. I undressed slowly and, pushing my working clothes under the bench, walked down to the water.

During the night the sea had fallen back, leaving a stretch of smooth sand at the water's edge. The beach sloped evenly into the water, as if it had been rolled specially for the convenience of bathers. Faint, clear ripples lapped the shore—the last sighs of the storm-tossed Azov Sea.

I swam about for a bit near the shore, then came out on to the sand and flopped down on it. And only then, as I lay with closed eyes on the soft sand and listened to the soft lapping of the waves, did I realize how tired the day's work had made me. And although I lay completely relaxed, letting my whole body rest, I still felt as if I had a tamping iron in my hand and was plunging it up and down in the black moulding sand that still steamed from the previous night. "Faster, faster! Keep going! You mustn't get behind Naumenko!" I muttered to myself. A shovel jumped into my hands. Then the signal bell rang in the distance. "Our turn!" Naumenko's stern voice seemed to come from the sky. "Drop everything. Come and get the iron!"

... We plod through the dry sand of the main alley. Strong hands behind him, gripping the ring of the ladle, Naumenko leads the way. His wrinkled neck is red with exertion. His sweat-soaked shirt clings to his back. I plod along behind, gripping the handles of the ladle and feeling that I shall fall at any moment. My strength is ebbing. I can hardly drag one foot after the other. My eyes are fixed on a blob of sticky brown slag. It floats gently in the ladle, surrounded by a wreath of glaring molten metal.

I can't go on. It's still a long way to the machines. If only we could get there soon! If only we could put the heavy ladle down on the dry sand, rest a little, wipe away the salty sweat that is streaming down our foreheads into the corners of our eyes! Relax our grip, if only for a minute!

"Faster! Faster!" I think, but I feel the ground giving way under my feet. . . A hole! The hole dug in the centre of the moulding floor where the foundry men pour the metal that's left over!...

I try to stop, but Naumenko strides on ahead. I fall. The ladle slips out of the handle. Molten metal flows over my chest, over my legs. I'm so hot...

Losing consciousness, I utter a deep groan, and just at that moment there is laughter above me and the touch of something cold. . .

Heavy drops of cold water were falling on my chest. They quickly scattered the remnants of my short but terrible dream.

Without opening my eyes, I tried to remember where I was. I had quite forgotten that I had fallen asleep on the beach. It seemed to me that I had dozed off while waiting for my friends in our room, and that Sasha, finding me asleep, was playing the fool as usual and pouring cold water on my chest.

"Stop playing about like a kid!" I grunted peevishly, and rubbing my eyes, blinked up at someone who was not Sasha at all.

The girl from next door stood over me holding my towel. She was glistening wet from head to foot.

"It's bad to sleep in the sun, specially for fair-skinned people. You'll get burnt!" she said.

Still in a daze, I leapt to my feet. The people lying round me looked like a lot of ghosts.

"I didn't mean to make you wet, I was going to cover you with the towel. I'm sorry."

"It's all right. Thanks!" I muttered, and ashamed of being found asleep by this smiling girl, I staggered away and plunged into the sea.

Burrowing into the rippling waves, I swam away as fast as I could. But the water seemed icy. Soon I turned and swam back to the shore.

The girl was sitting on the bench. Now, since she had made the first advance, I had every right to talk to her, but I hadn't the faintest idea what to say. Should I ask her where she had learnt to swim so well? No, that would sound silly. My mind was a blank. It was even hard to cough. But as if anxious to help me out, the girl spoke first:

"And it's not very good to run into the sea like that all of a sudden either. The water's still cold, and you're overheated. You'll catch a chill."

"Oh, come..." I murmured.

"Yes, you will. I've been living at the seaside for a long time. You've only just arrived, there's a lot you don't know yet. You ought to listen to people who know better."

"What makes you think I've only just arrived?"

"Nothing. I know you have."

"That's queer, how do you know?" And seizing the chance of prolonging the conversation, I went on: "Well, you're quite wrong, as it happens. I've been living here a long time, in Matrosskaya Settlement."

"You can't fool me. I know all about you."

"Well, what do you know?"

"That you've just come here."

"Who's been telling you that?"

"A magpie told me. The bird with a tail, you know." '.: "There aren't any magpies here. Magpies live in woods; here it's all sea and steppe."

"Well, a cormorant then... Stop beating about the bush. I'm your neighbour and I saw you cleaning your teeth by the well only yesterday evening. Besides, Maria Trofimovna told us that she had some new lodgers, very nice young men."

"You don't mean to tell me you know Maria Trofimovna!" I exclaimed. It was the first thing that came into my head.

"But of course! We've been buying goat's milk off her for the last two years or more. Daddy has trouble with his lungs and the doctor makes him drink goat's milk."

"Goat's milk does a lot of good," I declared. "A friend of mine, Sasha Bobir, who's living with me now, was a real consumptive. His mother made him drink a mixture the doctor made up of goat's milk and melted fat... "

"Did he get better?"

"Strong as a horse. Only grinds his teeth a bit when he's asleep."

The girl laughed and, after a pause, asked: "Why did you come here?"

"To work."

"But where?"

"At the Lieutenant Schmidt Works."

"And what are you doing there, if it's not a secret?"

"Working in the shops. 'I'm in the foundry, for instance, and my pals are working in other shops—Maremukha in the joiners' shop, and Bobir in..."

"Technicians, 'I suppose?" the girl interrupted me.

"Why technicians? Workers!"

"Workers? Just ordinary workers?"

"Yes. What's so surprising about it?"

"Oh, nothing. I was just asking... And afterwards you'll be going to the institute, will you? I suppose you haven't been working long enough yet to qualify for entry?"

Now I could see quite plainly that the girl thought we were the sons of profiteers or something.

"Come to another town, to make up their working record," she must be thinking. I should have been offended at the mere suggestion, but keeping my feelings to myself, I said stolidly:

"We'll see about that later on, when we've done some work. It's too early to make plans yet."

"You must have the worst time of the lot, in the foundry?"

"Why? Nothing unusual about it."

"It's the most unhealthy shop in the whole works. There's always that stinging smoke. And it smells of sulphur. The roof is so low!"

"They're going to make the roof higher soon. The supports have been put up outside already."

"But when will that be? I'm very sorry for you."

"How do you come to know all about the foundry?"

"Daddy took me round once. To show me how iron was made. H had to shampoo my hair for ages afterwards, to get the dust out."

"Fancy them letting you in. . . No outsiders are admitted to the works usually."

"They let me in," the girl said carelessly. "And I'm not an outsider anyway. My father is chief engineer there. You must have seen him about."

"I haven't yet," I admitted. "It's only our first day."

"Oh yes, I forgot.. . What's your name?"

"Vasil."

"Well, let's introduce ourselves. My name is Angelika. My friends call me Lika." "Good," I grunted.

"Oh, but how strange you are!" the girl burst out laughing. "A real crusty character! What do you mean 'good'? When people are introduced, they shake hands. Now then?"

"Why am I crusty? Talking to each other's the same as being introduced, if you ask me. But it's up to you, if you want to!" And I awkwardly offered Lika my wet hand.

She pressed it with her slim fingers, and just at that moment I heard Sasha's indignant voice behind

me:

"Blow you, Vasil! We've been calling you and calling you, Petka even climbed out on the roof, and you... "

II jerked my hand away, as if it had been scalded.

Before us stood Sasha and Petka. They seemed to have been running. Sasha gazed in astonishment, now at me, now at Lika.

Our neighbour, without a trace of confusion, surveyed my friends.

"Come and have dinner!" Petka blurted out.

"These are your friends, are they, Vasil?" Lika asked. "Why don't you introduce us?"

"Get to know each other, chaps..." I mumbled, utterly embarrassed. "This is ... this is..."

Taking matters into her own hands, our neighbour got up from the bench and, stepping towards my friends, said:

"Angelika!"

That took them properly by surprise. Petka clutched the girl's right hand, Bobir, her left, and both pronounced their names.

"So you are Bobir!" Angelika said curiously, looking the subdued Sasha straight in the eye. "It's you who grinds his teeth at night, is it?"

Nothing could have wounded Sasha more. He stared at me indignantly. What scorn and reproach were in that glance! It sounded as if H had been telling tales to this girl about Sasha in order to shame him and raise myself in her eyes. But I had never intended to humiliate my friend. It had just slipped out...

Conversation between the four of us was obviously a failure, so we left Angelika on the beach and walked home.

"Look at that... indualist!" Sasha exclaimed, tripping up again over that difficult word. "There were we shouting ourselves hoarse, and what was he doing—holding hands with his beautiful damsel beside the Azov waves! And only yesterday he made all that fuss just because I offered to mind her clothes. . ."

Should I tell them how it had really happened? They would never believe me. No matter how I tried, they would never believe me! And I decided to say nothing.