A. Belyaev - Classics fantasy – 10

© A. Belyaev, 2019

ISBN 978-5-0050-1134-3 (т. 10)

ISBN 978-5-0050-0936-4

Created with Ridero smart publishing system

The big transatlantic steamship “Veniamin Franklin” stood in the Genoa harbor, ready to departure. Ashore there was a usual vanity, shouts of multilingual, motley crowd were heard, and by steamship already there came the moment of that intense, nervous silence which involuntarily covers people before a long trip. Only on the deck of the third class passengers fussy “divided narrowness”, accommodating and stacking belongings. The public of the first class from height of the deck silently observed this human ant hill.

Shaking air, the steamship cried last time. Sailors hastily began to lift a ladder.

At this moment to a ladder quickly there ascended two persons. That which followed behind made to sailors some sign a hand, and they lowered a ladder.

The late passengers entered on the deck. Well dressed, slender and broad-shouldered young man, having stuffed up hands in pockets of a wide coat, quickly walked towards cabins. His smoothly shaved face was absolutely quiet. However the observant person on the shifted eyebrows of the stranger and a faint ironical smile could notice that this tranquility forced. After it, without lagging behind on a step, there was a tolstenky person of average years. Its kettle was shifted on a nape. The sweaty, rumpled person expressed it at the same time fatigue, pleasure and breathless attention, as at a cat who drags a mouse in teeth. He for a second kept the eyes glued from the satellite.

On the deck of the steamship, near a ladder, there was a young girl in a white dress. For a moment of her eye met eyes of the late passenger who went ahead.

When there passed this strange couple, the girl in a white dress, Ms. Kingman, heard as the sailor removing a ladder told the companion, having nodded towards the left passengers:

– Saw? The old acquaintance Jim Simpkins, the New York detective, caught some swell.

– Симпкинс? – other sailor answered. – This on a small game does not hunt.

– Yes, look as it is dressed. Some specialist in a part of bank safes, if it is not worse than that.

Ms. Kingman it became terrible. By one steamship with it all way to New York the criminal, perhaps, the murderer will go. Still she saw portraits of these mysterious and terrible people only in newspapers.

Ms. Kingman hasty ascended to the main deck. Here, among people of the circle, in this place inaccessible ordinary mortal, she felt in relative safety. Having leaned back on a convenient wicker chair, Ms. Kingman plunged into inactive contemplation – the best gift of voyages for the nerves tired with city bustle. The awning covered her head from hot beams of the sun. Over it leaves of the palm trees standing in wide tubs between chairs quietly rocked. From where sideways the aromatic smell of expensive tobacco reached.

– Criminal. Who could think? – Ms. Kingman whispered, still remembering a meeting at a ladder. And finally to get off unpleasant impression, she took out a small graceful cigarette case from ivory, the Japanese work, with the flowers which are cut out on a cover, and lit the Egyptian sigarette. The blue stream of smoke stretched to palm leaves up.

The steamship departed, carefully getting out of the harbor. It seemed as if the steamship stands still, and surrounding scenery by means of the rotating scene move. Here all Genoa turned to a steamship board, as if wishing to seem driving off last time. White houses ran from mountains and were restricted at a coastal strip as herd of sheep at a watering place. And over them yellowy-brown tops with green spots of gardens and stone pines rose. But here someone turned scenery. The gulf corner – a blue smooth surface with crystal transparency of water opened. White yachts, appear, were shipped in the piece of the blue sky falling to the ground all lines of the vessel through transparent water were so clearly visible. Infinite packs of fishes darted about between yellowish stones and short seaweed at a white sandy bottom. Gradually water became all blue, did not hide a bottom yet…

– How it was pleasant to you, Ms., your cabin?

Ms. Kingman looked back. It was faced by the captain who included in a circle of the duties to pay kind attention to the “dearest” passengers.

– I thank you, Mr…

– Brown.

– Mr. Brown, perfectly. We will come into Marseille?

– New York – the first stop. However, maybe, we will be late at several o’clock in Gibraltar. You wanted to visit Marseille?

– About is not present – hasty and even with a fright Ms. Kingman spoke. – I was fatally bothered by Europe. – And, having kept silent, she asked: – Tell, the captain, by steamship… is available for us the criminal?

– What criminal?

– Some arrested…

– It is possible that them even a little. Usual thing. This public is in the habit to get away from the European justice to America, and from American – to Europe. But detectives track down them and deliver home these stray sheep. At their presence by steamship there is nothing dangerous – you can be absolutely quiet. They are given without shackles only not to draw the attention of public. But in a cabin to them immediately put on manual shackles and arrest to beds.

– But it is awful! – Ms. Kingman spoke.

The captain shrugged shoulders.

Neither the captain, nor even Ms. Kingman understood that vague feeling which caused this exclamation. It is awful that people as wild animals, arrest on a chain. So the captain thought, though found it a reasonable precautionary measure.

It is awful that this young man so poorly similar to the criminal and not different from people of its circle, all road will sit held down in a stuffy cabin. There is that vague subconscious thought which excited Ms. Kingman.

And, having strongly dragged on a cigarette, it plunged into silence.

The captain imperceptibly departed from Ms. Kingman. Fresh sea wind played the end of a white silk scarf and her chestnut ringlets.

Even here, for several miles from the harbor, aroma of the blossoming magnolias as the last hi the Genoa coast reached. The huge steamship tirelessly cut a blue surface, reserving a far wavy trace. And waves stitches hurried to darn the hem formed on a silk sea smooth surface.

Chapter 2

– Check to the king. Checkmate.

– Oh, that you the shark swallowed! You skillfully play, Mr. Gatling – the famous New York detective Jim Simpkins told and annoyancely scratched behind the right ear. – Yes, you play perfectly – it continued. – And I nevertheless play better you. You beat me in chess, but what magnificent checkmate I arranged you, Gatling, there, in Genoa when you as the chess king, sat out in the most distant cage of the destroyed house! You wanted to take cover from me? In vain! Jim Simpkins will find at the bottom of the sea. Here to you a checkmate – and, fatly having leaned back, he began to smoke a cigar.

Redzhinald Gatling shrugged shoulders:

– You had too many pawns. You lifted up all Genoa police and conducted the correct siege. Any chess player will not win party, holding one figure of the king against all figures of the opponent. And, besides, Mr. Jim Simpkins, our party still… is not graduated.

– You believe? This chain did not convince you yet? – and the detective touched an easy, but strong chain by which Gatling was chained by the left hand to a metal core of a bed.