Eugene Petrov - The Twelve Chairs

and was due to sail from Nizhni to Tsaritsin, calling at every river port,

and holding a government-bond lottery. A complete government department had

left Moscow for the trip, including a lottery committee, an office staff, a

brass band, a cameraman, reporters from the central press and the Columbus

Theatre. The theatre was there to perform plays which popularised the idea

of government loans. Up to Stalingrad the Columbus Theatre was on the

establishment of the lottery committee, after which the theatre had decided

to tour the Caucasus and the Crimea with The Marriage at its own risk.

The Scriabin was late. A promise was given that she would leave the

backwater, where last-minute preparations were being made, by evening. So

the whole department from Moscow set up camp on the quayside and waited to

go aboard.

Tender creatures with attache1 cases and hold-alls sat on the bundles

of wire, guarding their Underwoods, and glancing apprehensively at the

stevedores. A citizen with a violet imperial positioned himself on a

mill-stone. On his knees was a pile of enamel plates. A curious person could

have read the uppermost one:

Mutual Settlement Department

Desks with ornamental legs and other, more modest, desks stood on top

of one another. A guard sauntered up and down by a sealed safe. Persidsky,

who was representing the Lathe, gazed at the fairground through Zeiss

binoculars with eightfold magnification.

The S.S. Scriabin approached, turning against the stream. Her sides

were decked with plyboard sheets showing brightly coloured pictures of

giant-sized bonds. The ship gave a roar, imitating the sound of a mammoth,

or possibly some other animal used in prehistoric times, as a substitute for

the sound of a ship's hooter.

The finance-and-theatre camp came to life. Down the slopes to the quay

came the lottery employees. Platon Plashuk, a fat little man, toddled down

to the ship in a cloud of dust. Galkin, Palkin, Malkin, Chalkin and Zalkind

flew out of the Raft beer-hall. Dockers were already loading the safe.

Georgetta Tiraspolskikh, the acrobatics instructress, hurried up the gangway

with a springy walk, while Simbievich-Sindievich, still worried about the

scenic effects, raised his hands, at one moment to the Kremlin heights, and

at another towards the captain standing on the bridge. The cameraman carried

his camera high above the heads of the crowd, and as he went he demanded a

separate cabin in which to set up a darkroom.

Amid the general confusion, Ippolit Matveyevich made his way over to

the chairs and was about to drag one away to one side.

"Leave the chair alone!" snarled Bender. "Are you crazy? Even if we

take one, the others will disappear for good. You'd do better to think of a

way to get aboard the ship."

Belted with brass tubes, the band passed along the landing-stage. The

musicians looked with distaste at the saxophones, flexotones, beer bottles

and Esmarch douches, with which the sound effects were armed.

The lottery wheels arrived in a Ford station wagon. They were built

into a complicated device composed of six rotating cylinders with shining

brass and glass. It took some time to set them up on the lower deck. The

stamping about and exchange of abuse continued until late evening.

In the lottery hall people were erecting a stage, fixing notices and

slogans to the walls, arranging benches for the visitors, and joining

electric cables to the lottery wheels. The desks were in the stern, and the

tapping of typewriters, interspersed with laughter, could be heard from the

typists' cabin. The pale man in the violet imperial walked the length of the

ship, hanging his enamel plates on the relevant doors.

Mutual Settlement Department

Personnel Department

Office

Engine Room

To the larger plates the man with the imperial added smaller plates.

No entry except on business

No consultations

No admittance to outsiders

All inquiries at the registry

The first-class saloon had been fitted up for an exhibition of bank

notes and bonds. This aroused a wave of indignation from Galkin, Palkin,

Malkin, Chalkin and Zalkind.

"Where are we going to eat?" they fretted. "And what happens if it

rains?"

"This is too much," said Nich. Sestrin to his assistant. "What do you

think, Seryozha? Can we do without the sound effects?"

"Lord, no, Nicholas Constantinovich. The actors are used to the rhythm

by now."

A fresh racket broke out. The "Five" had found that the stage manager

had taken all four chairs to his cabin.

"So that's it," said the "Five" ironically. "We're supposed to rehearse

sitting on our berths, while Sestrin and his wife, Gusta, who has nothing to

do with our group, sit on the four chairs. Perhaps we should have brought

our own wives with us on this trip."

The lottery ship was watched malevolently from the bank by the smooth

operator. A fresh outbreak of shouting reached the concessionaires' ears.

"Why didn't you tell me before?" cried a committee member.

"How was I to know he would fall ill."

"A hell of a mess we're in! Then go to the artists'-union office and

insist that an artist be sent here immediately."

"How can I? It's now six o'clock. The union office closed long ago.

Anyway, the ship is leaving in half an hour."

"Then you can do the painting yourself. Since you're responsible for

the decorations on the ship, get out of the mess any way you like!"

Ostap was already running up the gangplank, elbowing his way through

the dockers, young ladies, and idle onlookers. He was stopped at the top.

"Your pass?'

"Comrade!" roared Bender. "You! You! The little fat man! The one who

needs an artist!"

Five minutes later the smooth operator was sitting in the white cabin

occupied by the fat little assistant manager of the floating lottery, and

discussing terms.

"So we want you to do the following, Comrade," said fatty. "Paint

notices, inscriptions, and complete the transparent. Our artist began the

work, but is now ill. We've left him at the hospital. And, of course,

general supervision of the art department.

Can you take that on? I warn you, incidentally, there's a great deal of

work."

"Yes, I can undertake that. I've had occasion to do that kind of work

before."

"And you can come along with us now?"

"That will be difficult, but I'll try."

A large and heavy burden fell from the shoulders of the assistant

manager. With a feeling of relief, the fat man looked at the new artist with

shining eyes.

"Your terms?" asked Ostap sharply. "Remember, I'm not from a funeral

home."

"It's piecework. At union rates."

Ostap frowned, which was very hard for him.

"But free meals as well," added the tubby man hastily. "And a separate

cabin."

"All right," said Ostap, "I accept. But I have a boy, an assistant,

with me."

"I don't know about the boy. There are no funds for a boy. But at your

own expense by all means. He can live in your cabin."

"As you like. The kid is smart. He's used to Spartan conditions."

Ostap was given a pass for himself and for the smart boy; he put the

key of the cabin in his pocket and went out onto the hot deck. He felt great

satisfaction as he fingered the key. For the first time in his stormy life

he had both a key and an apartment. It was only the money he lacked. But

there was some right next to him in the chairs. The smooth operator walked