Alexander Grin - CRIMSON SAILS

A rowboat manned by bronzed oarsmen detached itself from the ship; among them stood he whom she now felt she had known, had dimly recalled since childhood. He was looking at her with a smile which warmed and beckoned. But thousands of last-stand, silly fears gripped Assol; deathly afraid of everything-an error, misunderstanding, some mysterious or evil hindrance – she plunged waist-deep into the warm undulation of the waves, shouting: "I'm here, I'm here! It's me!"

Then Zimmer raised his bow – and the very same melody struck the nerves of the crowd, but this time it was a full-voiced, triumphant choir. From excitement, the motion of the clouds and waves, the glitter of the water and the distance the girl was hardly able to discern what was moving: she herself, the ship or the rowboat,-everything was moving, spinning and falling.

But an oar slashed the water next to her; she raised her head. Gray bent down, and her hands gripped his belt.

Assol shut her eyes tight; then she opened them quickly, smiled boldly into his beaming face and said breathlessly:

"Just as I imagined you."

"And you, too, my dear!" Gray said, lifting his wet treasure from the water. "I've come at last. Do you recognize me?"

She nodded, holding onto his belt, trembling with a reborn soul and eyes shut quiveringly tight. Happiness was as a soft kitten curled up inside of her. When Assol decided to open her eyes the rocking of the rowboat, the sparkle of the waves, the huge, approaching, moving side of the Secret-all was a dream, where the light and the water bobbed and spun like sun-sports cavorting on a sunshine-streaked wall. She did not remember how she was carried up the gangplank in Gray's strong arms. The deck, covered and draped with rugs, engulfed by the crimson splashing of the sails, was like a heavenly garden. And soon Assol saw that she was in a cabin-in a room than which nothing could be better.

Then from above, rending and absorbing the heart in its triumphant cry, once again the thunderous music crashed. Once again Assol shut her eyes, fearful lest all this disappear if she were to look. Gray took her hands and, knowing now where safety lay, she buried her tear-stained face on the breast of her beloved, who had appeared so miraculously. Gently, but with a smile, for he, too, was overwhelmed and amazed by the coming of the inexpressible, precious minute, inaccessible to anyone else, Gray tilted up this face that had haunted him for so long, and the eyes of the girl finally opened wide. All that was best in a person was in them.

"Will you take my Longren with us?" she said.

"Yes." And he kissed her so passionately after saying this firm "yes" that she laughed delightedly.

We shall leave them now, knowing that they should be alone. There are many words in the many languages and dialects of the world, but none of them can even faintly convey that which they said to each other that day.

Meanwhile, up on deck, by the mainmast the entire crew waited at the worm-eaten cask with the top knocked off to reveal the hundred-year old dark magnificence. Atwood stood by; Panten sat as primly blissful as a newborn babe. Gray came up on deck, signalled to the orchestra and, removing his cap, was the first to dip a glass, to the accompaniment of the golden horns, into the sacred wine.

"There…" he said, when he had drunk and then tossed down his glass. "Now drink. Everybody, drink! Anyone who doesn't drink is my enemy."

He did not have to repeat his words. As the Secret proceeded at full speed, under full sail, away from Kaperna, which had been struck dumb forever, the jostling around the cask was greater than anything in this manner that occurs at great fetes.

"How did you like it?" Gray asked Letika.

"Captain," the sailor said, searching for the right words, "I don't know whether it liked me, but I'll have to think over my impressions. Beehive and orchard!"

"What?"

"I mean it's like having a beehive and an orchard put into my mouth. Be happy, Captain. And may she whom I will call 'the best cargo', the Secret’s best prize, be happy, too!"

When dawn broke the following morning the ship was far from Kaperna. Part of the crew were asleep where they had stretched out on deck, overcome by Gray's wine; only the helmsman, the watch and a thoughtful and tipsy Zimmer who sat near the prow with his chin resting on the finger-board of his cello were up. He sat there, drawing his bow across the strings softly, making them speak in a magic, heavenly voice, and was thinking of happiness.

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