ship!
But he did.
If it had been the middle of a day, full of hustle and bustle, games
and urgent chores, nothing at all would have happened. But it was evening
and some sad music was being played on the radio (and, what's more, his
mother had just gone away for ten whole days), and that was most likely
why his memory of the clipper was also sad. He stopped worrying about
what to wear, switched off the light, settled down on the sofa and began
thinking about the little ship, and about it standing in the dusk on the
chest of drawers among all those dusty hats. Sofia Alexandrovna was, of
course, sitting by the window and grieving over her missing cat. And
nobody cared that the little but almost real clipper was pining for the
sea.
It just wasn't fear! It really wasn't!
Had the old ship-wright built his clipper for a dusty chest of
drawers?
It was dark in the room but the small window was light and the
television aerials on the neighbouring houses could be seen through it.
The aerials looked a little like the masts of clipper with a small moon
hooked onto one.
Alex thought about ships and ship-wrights and the following verses
gradually formed in his head: "Once upon a time there lived a ship-wright
... who built amazing ships..."
That's how they started and this is how they finished up:
Once upon a time there lived an old ship-wright
Who smoked a pipe and dreamed of the sea.
And then one day he built a model ship -
Tine it was but as real as can be.
Just like a frigate, a marvellous sight,
With mizzens and bowsprit, all of his labour.
But the tired old ship-wright died one night,
And the ship was left with his neighbour.
This is how Alex began his "Ballad about a Clipper". he was
astonished how easily the right words came to him:
Surrounded by hats, all old and worn,
Dusty plumes and felt, rotten and faded,
How could the wonder ship not feel forlorn,
The clipper once born of the wind and sea?
Alex felt a lump in his throat as he whispered these lines to
himself.
Indeed, how could it not feel forlorn? Was it right for a ship to be
kept among all that moth-eaten junk? No, it should be standing in a
captain's cabin by a port-hole, looking out on all the seas and
continents. Or in an old sailor's flat whose walls were decorated with
maps, steering-wheels and colourful Indian masks. Or on the desk of a
writer of travel stories. Or in the room of a boy who very much wanted to
become a captain. And not necessarily of a boy - many girls loved
adventures, too. Masha, for instance, dreamed of becoming a sailor and
was probably dreaming of it at that very moment.
Yes, of course she was!
If only she could have a little ship like that...
If only she could have this very ship!
It was such a fine idea that Alex began trembling with excitement.
Of course, the clipper would make the best present for Masha! Yes,
why give her a pen with four different-coloured inks or a home-made
pistol when the sailing ship was so wonderful?..
"What does the old lady need the clipper for?" thought Alex with
vexation. "She takes no notice of it at all and talks of it as something
she acquired by chance. Just imagine it: the clipper doesn't mean
anything for her!"
Now Alex could think of nothing else because something terribly
unfair had happened: that wonderful little ship was being totally
neglected and the best girl in the world could not be given it as a
present.
Oh, how happy she would be! Alex imagined Masha's sparkling eyes and
seemed to hear her saying: "Oh, Alex! Oh, isn't it wonderful!"
At the thought of all this, he began fidgeting about on the sofa.
But what could he do? Perhaps he should go to Sofia Alexandrovna and
ask her to sell him the ship? But it was a fine old model and not just a
pen, and all he had was five rubles.
Perhaps it would be best to explain everything to her? She might just
understand then and give it away to him, mightn't she?
Alex sighed. No, he would not dare tell her everything and, anyway,
he would not know where to begin. After all, he could not work out for
himself why Masha was better than anyone else and why she needed the
little ship so much. He just felt it.
And, anyway, would Sofia Alexandrovna bother to hear him out when all
she thought of was cats and hats?
Hats...
Hats!
Alex jumped up so fast that the sofa springs creaked loudly and went
on twanging for a long time. he had remembered something!
In the block of flats he used to live in there was still a boy he
knew called Vladik Vasilkov who had moved there two years ago from
Tallinn. Now, there were lots of houses with tall chimneys in Tallinn.
And you can't have chimneys without having chimney-sweeps, too!
Chimney-sweeps were famous people in Tallinn. And the tall black top hats
they wore were famous, too. Vladik had told him he had one that he had
been given by famous chimney-sweep. At any rate, that's what he said.
Vladik Vasilkov was easy to talk round and would probably agree to swop
his hat for four stamps with African fishes on them and a good penknife
with four blades and a screw-driver.
Sofia Alexandrovna had plenty of hats of every kind but Alex had not
noticed one quite like Vladik's. No, she probably did not have one like
it in her collection. Early the next morning Alex would rush over and get
this precious hat and then go and see Sofia Alexandrovna and say very
politely, "Please excuse me but you have a little ship which you don't
need in the least and I've got a rare hat which I don't need either. You
collect hats whereas I collect models. Lets swop. We'll both only benefit
from it..."
Of course, it would demand a lot of courage for it was not like
swopping things with his friends but he would do it for Masha's sake and
just to free the clipper from captivity. Yes, he simply had to save the
ship!
And thinking this, Alex fell fast asleep.
A thunderstorm brewed during the night. However, it was not the
thunder and lighting that awoke Alex but the cold splashes of rain being
swept through the open window by the wind, the curtain billowing like a
sail.
Alex rushed over to slam the window shut but there was suddenly such
a brilliant flash and such a tremendous bang that he stopped still and
gazed out in wonder without feeling in the least afraid.
In the blue flash of light he caught sight of torrents of rain and
frothy white streams gushing along the road. There was another streak of
lighting and the poplars seemed to blaze with green light from within.
The wind and torrents of rain raged and roared and the storm was so
tremendous and fascinating that Alex could not bring himself to shut the
window. He liked the way the curtain was flapping and the lampshade
swinging to and fro and the fine glasses chattering with fear in the
sideboard. So he simply took his mother's old raincoat off the rack and
huddled under it on the sofa so that the stinging splashes of rain did
not fall on his arms or legs.
The streaks of lighting came thick and fast, turning the ceiling blue
as the rain outside swished and gurgled.
"The wet south-westerly roared," thought Alex.
"The rain crashed down like a wall of water..."
And he dozed off to the sound of the storm.
Chapter Four
It was a sunny morning. Lying here and there along the road were
shiny puddles and maple branches which had been torn off by the storm. A
gentle breeze was blowing and when Alex came out into the street, his
blue sailor's collar stirred and began flapping against his back like a
carnival flag. His spirits rose and he suddenly felt sure that something
extraordinary was bound to happen that day.
He set off towards Vladik Vasilkov's to get the chimney-sweep's hat.
But sometimes things happen that turn all your plans upside down. He
had passed two blocks when he heard a hoarse drawn-out mewing and spotted
a grey cat perched on the top of a large poplar. It was wet and looked
very miserable and thin. Some ferocious dogs had probably chased it up
the tree the day before and the poor thing had spent the whole night out
in the thunderstorm and rain. It had fled up to the top in fright and was
now too scared to come down.
Screwing up his eyes, Alex spotted a large pink scratch on one of the
cat's ears and almost whooped with joy - "Kuzya". He no longer needed the
chimney-sweep's hat. Once she got her beloved Kuzya back, Sofia
Alexandrovna would definitely want to reward his rescuer. And, after all,
she had seen how impressed Alex had been by the clipper and, indeed, what
did the clipper mean to her next to Kuzya?
Don't think badly of Alex: even if there had been no ship, he would
still have not passed the poor cat by. But now he was even more
determined and hurriedly kicked off his sandals and started climbing up
the poplar's wet trunk. He found it easy climbing at first. The trunk
was rough and slanting and he quickly got half-way up the tree. True, he
scratched his knees and the front of his shirt got wet and crumpled but
this did not worry him in the least.
Then the trunk branched and he had to crawl along some slippery
boughs to reach Kuzya. When he finally got near enough, he tried to pick
it up gently but the silly cat closed its eyes tight, let out a
protracted wail and dug its claws deep into the bark. So Alex had to
grab it by the scruff of the neck and pull it off the bough. As soon as
it broke loose, Kuzya sank its claws into Alex's shoulder and the latter
let out a stifled howl and flopped down to the ground where some
sympathetic onlookers had gathered.
"What a little hero!" said a tall man with a moustache.
"The poor little cat's had a terrible time," sighed a woman in a
bright-coloured blouse. "And the poor thing probably doesn't have a
home."
Feeling it was close to the ground, the "poor thing" relaxed its grip
but its eyes were still tightly shut and its ears flattened.
"I know its owner," Alex replied gruffly, groping for his sandals
with his feet. His scratched shoulder and knees were stinging.
"Never mind," he thought. "After all, it's evidence that I took a lot
of trouble and even a risk getting the brute back."
And, shuffling along in his unbuckled sandals, Alex carried Kuzya
back to Sofia Alexandrovna's little house.
The house turned out to be empty. Its window-panes were broken, its
door unhinged and the chimney on its roof had caved in. Its corners were
even more crooked than before and stuffing was sticking out of the cracks
in its damp walls.
Completely baffled, Alex peered inside and saw that its empty rooms
were flooded with black water in which scraps of paper and a three-legged
chair were bobbing about.
He hugged Kuzya, who was limp after his ordeal, and began walking
round the outside of the house.
It was obvious that the night's rainstorm had done its worst here.
Torrents of water had washed away the soil and pushed the house even
nearer the gully. Bushes had been wrenched out of the ground on the slope
where the water had been gushing downhill all night.
A girl aged about eight with long straight hair the colour of ripe
corn was sitting on an upturned bucket right on the edge of the gully.
She was holding a huge-eyed doll on her lap and softly singing a strange
ditty:
Yonder in the country
Grass and trees will grow.
Fear not the wild beasts
In the forests where you go,
But beware of the grey mouse
For that's your main foe.
And when it joins the tale,
It's sure to bring woe.
"Hello there!" called Alex. "What happened here? Where's Sofia
Alexandrovna?"
The little girl raised her limpid eyes towards Alex.
"What happened?" she repeated in a sing-song voice. "The rains came
down and flooded the house. And Sofia Alexandrovna's nephew came and took
her away to a new flat. He's been trying to persuade her to move for a
long time but just couldn't get her to. But this time he didn't need to.
He arrived early in the morning in his car, loaded all her belongings and
off they went. The house is going to slide into the gully before long..."
An ill foreboding caused Alex's heart to sink.
"But what about her things?" he asked. "Was anything damaged?"
"Not half!" sighed the little girl. "The flood carried away her
night-table and two Spanish hats. And her little ship. It was so lovely,
too. Its glass box stayed put but the ship's completely disappeared..."
"I just knew it!" thought Alex in despair.
But the little girl went on, "Sofia Alexandrovna was terribly upset
about the hats. And she felt sorry about the ship, too. She didn't mind
about the table but she was very sorry about the ship. She said she
should have given it as a present to that boy."
Alex was so surprised, he dropped his arms and Kuzya flopped onto the
ground. Then he absent-mindedly picked him up again.
"Why, it's Kuzya!" exclaimed the little girl joyfully. "I didn't
recognise him. So you've found my little poppet? Give him to me and I'll
take him to Sofia Alexandrovna. She'll be so happy."
She stood up, put her doll on the bucket and straightened. She looked
very small and fragile in her sun-bleached blue dress with white polka.
And Alex suddenly felt as if he had seen her somewhere before but could
not remember where. He handed the cat over to her and it began purring in
her arms.
"What boy did she mean to give the ship away to?" asked Alex, almost
crying with disappointment.
"The one who was here yesterday. What else? She doesn't know any
others."
"Really," said Alex. "Then I'll go down and have a look in the gully.
The ship might be stuck in the bushes. It can't have been swept very far
away."
He stepped towards the edge of the gully and grabbed hold of a bush.
"Don't go there!" said the little girl quickly. "You'll only get
covered in mud and scratched. There's nothing down there. Sofia
Alexandrovna's nephew climbed down in his rubber boots and hunted for her
hats and other things but he didn't find a sausage. The stream's swept it
all away."
"But I just might find it..."
"You won't catch up with anything that's been swept away," objected
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