Chapter 20 third chapter

A rough wooden house, divided into two rooms with windows opening to the sea; a reflective instrument, that is, a reflector light, is installed on a column made of I-beam, about 60 feet high, this is Artie The lighthouse and its outbuildings couldn't be more rudimentary. But despite this, this lighthouse plays a huge role in navigation in the nearby waters.It was erected only a few years ago.How many ships, therefore, were stranded in this dead end of the Asian continent, before the impenetrable channel of the little harbor of Atina facing the west was illuminated!Driven by the north wind and west wind, it is difficult for the ship to escape from the predicament of running aground even with full power, and the sailing ship can only rely on winding and tortuous sailing to fight against the wind.

There are two watchmen at the signal station in the wooden house at the foot of the lighthouse.The first room was their common parlour, and the second had two beds, but they never used it together, because one of them was on night duty, besides maintaining the lighthouse, when there were ships and no navigator. Signal when venturing into Atina's shipping lanes in case of . With a knock on the door outside, the door of the hut opened.Under the strong impetus of the hurricane—it was the hurricane—Master Kerabong rushed in, followed by Ahme.Van Mittain, Bruno, and Nisib. "What are you going to do?" asked one of the guards, and his companion came over immediately after being awakened by the sound.

"Can we stay overnight?" Ahme asked. "To keep you overnight?" said the watchman. "If all you need is a shelter from the elements, this is the house." "A sanctuary to wait until dawn," Kerabong replied, "and something to eat." "Very well," said the watchman, "but it would be better for you to go to some hotel in the village of Atina." "How far is this village?" asked Van Mettain. "Behind the cliff, about a mile from the lighthouse." "Walking a mile in this bad weather!" Kelabon yelled. "No, my friends, no! . . . Here are some benches on which we can spend the night! . . . If our carriages and horses would shelter us behind your cabins, we would have nothing to ask for!  … …Tomorrow at dawn we will go to the village, may Allah help us find a car that will be more suitable…”

"Especially faster!..." Ahme added. "Don't be uneven!..." Bruno muttered between his teeth. "But don't speak ill of the carriage! . . . " retorted Lord Kerabon, casting a stern look on Van Mettain's grudge servant. "My lord," continued the Warden, "I repeat our hut is at your disposal. Many travelers have taken refuge here from bad weather, and have been content to..." "Everything we'd be content with ourselves!" Kerabong replied. Having said this, the travelers made arrangements to spend the night in this hut.In any case, they could only be thankful that they had found a shelter that was far from comfortable, listening to the storm rage outside the door.

Sleeping is of course good, but the condition is that there is something to eat before going to bed. Of course it was Bruno who pointed this out, and he also reminded that there was nothing left of the food stored in the carriage. "On that point," asked Kerabong, "is there anything for us, my friends . . . for payment, of course!" "Good or bad," replied one of the watchmen, "eat what you have, and you won't be able to get anything with all the goldpiastres in the empire, except what little food we have left in the lighthouse." thing!" "That's enough!" Ahme replied.

"Yes!...if there is enough to eat!..." Bruno said to himself, and his extreme hunger made him swallow. "Go into that room, please," said the watchman. "You can use everything on the table!" "Bruno will serve us for dinner," Kerabong ordered, "Nisib will help the coachman store the carriage and horses, avoiding the wind and rain as much as possible!" At a sign from the master, Nisib went out at once, in order to arrange everything as best he could. Meanwhile Lord Kerabon, Van Mittern and Ahme, followed by Bruno, entered another room and sat down at a small table in front of a wood-burning stove.On rough plates on the table were cold cuts of meat that had become a delicacy to the hungry traveler.Bruno, watching them gobble up, seemed to think they had eaten too much.

"But don't forget Bruno and Nissibe!" reminded van Mettain, after chewing for a quarter of an hour - endlessly to the venerable Dutchman's servant. "Of course not," replied Lord Kerabong, "there is no reason for them to be hungrier than their master!" "He is very kind indeed!" murmured Bruno. "They must not be taken for Cossacks! . . . " Kerabon added, "Hmph! Those Cossacks! . . . Hang a hundred of them . . . " "Oh!" exclaimed Van Mettaine. "1000... 10,000... 100,000..." Kerabong said, shaking his friend with a strong hand, "that's still too much left! . . . it's late at night . . . we sleep Bar!"

"Yes, that's better!" replied Van Mittern, whose untimely "Oh!" had almost provoked the massacre of most of the nomadic tribes of the Muscovite Empire. When Nisib came back to dine with Bruno, Lord Kerabon, Van Mittaine, and Ahme were back in the first room, and the people were lying on the benches wrapped in coats, all trying to sleep To pass the long stormy night.Obviously, however, it is difficult to fall asleep in such an environment. Meanwhile Bruno and Nissibe were sitting opposite each other at the table, ready to eat up what was left on the plate and in the kettle.Bruno always commanded the city of Nissi, and Nisib always treated Bruno with great respect.

"Nissi," said Bruno, "it seems to me that when the masters have finished their meal, the servants have the right to eat what they wish to leave." "Are you always hungry?" Nisib asked in agreement. "Always hungry, Nisib, especially since I haven't had anything for twelve hours!" "can not tell!" "Can't tell! . . . But don't you see, Nisib, I've lost another ten pounds in eight days! My clothes are getting so baggy that anyone twice my size can wear them!" "What strange things have happened to you, Monsieur Bruno! And I have gained weight by living like this!"

"Oh! You're getting fat!..." Bruno muttered to himself, squinting at his companion. "Let's see what's on the plate," Nisib said. "Well!" said Bruno, "there's nothing left...and when there's barely enough food for one, it's certainly not enough for two!" "During the journey, eat what you should have, Monsieur Bruno!" "Ha! You have become a philosopher," thought Bruno. "Ha! You're getting fat! . . . you!" So he took Nesib's plate before him and asked: "Hey! Then what the hell are you eating?"

"I don't know, but it looks like leftover mutton," Nisib said, bringing the plate in front of him again. "Mutton?..." cried Bruno. "Hey! Nisib, watch out! . . . I think you're mistaken!" "Then just watch," Nisib said, putting the piece of meat he forked just now into his mouth. "No! . . . No! . . . " Bruno said, stopping him with his hand. "Don't worry! In the name of Muhammad, as you say, I'm afraid it's the flesh of some kind of unclean animal--unclean, of course, to the Turks, not to the Christians! " "You think so, Monsieur Bruno?" "Allow me to vouch for you, Nisib." So Bruno took the piece of meat that Nisib had chosen to his own plate, excused himself to taste it, took a few bites and swallowed it all. "How is it?" Nisib asked, unavoidably a little worried. "By the way," Bruno replied, "I was not mistaken! . . . It's pork! . . . It's terrible, you almost ate pork!" "Pork?" Nisib yelled. "It's forbidden..." "Absolutely forbidden." "But I think..." "Damn it, Nisib, you can show it to someone who knows better than you!" "Then what is to be done, Monsieur Bruno?" "If I were in your position, I'd just eat this piece of feta cheese." "It's not oily!" Nisib replied. "Not bad...but it looks great!" Bruno said and put the cheese in front of his companion.Nisib began to eat, feeling unhappy.Bruno munched on something more nutritious, which he inappropriately called pork. "To your health, Nisib!" he said, pouring a large glass from the jug on the table. "What kind of drink is this?" Nisib asked. "Hmm!..." Bruno hesitated, "It seems to be..." "What the hell?" Nisib said, holding out his cup. "There's some schnapps in it..." Bruno replied, "a good Muslim cannot allow himself..." "But I can't just eat and drink!" "No? . . . No! . . . There's clear water in this jug, and that's all you need to drink, Nisib! How happy are you Turks, accustomed to drink this wholesome drink!" While Nisib was drinking, Bruno was talking to himself: "Get fat, get fat, boy... get fat! . . . " At this time, when Nisib turned his head, he caught a glimpse of another dish on the fireplace, and there was still a piece of meat that stimulated the appetite. "Ah!" Nisib shouted, "this time I can have a good meal! . . . " "Yes... this time, Nissibus," Bruno replied, "we'll share as good friends! . . . To tell you the truth, it really hurts me that you can only eat this goat's milk!" "This must be mutton, Monsieur Bruno!" "I think so, Nisib." Bruno brought the dishes in front of him, and began to stare greedily at the meat. "Not bad," Basib said. "That's right...it's mutton..." Bruno replied, "it's supposed to be mutton!... Besides, how many groups of these interesting quadrupeds have we met on the road!... Seriously, it's amazing Believe that there is only lamb in this area!" "Are you ready?..." Nisib stretched out the plate and asked. "Wait a minute...Nisib...wait a minute!...For your sake, I'd better be sure...you know, here...just a few kilometers from the border...almost in a Russian kitchen ... and the Russians ... cannot be trusted!" "I tell you again, Monsieur Bruno, it is impossible to be wrong this time!" "Impossible..." replied Bruno, who had just tasted the dish. "It's really mutton...but..." "Huh?..." Nisib asked. "It can be said..." Bruno replied, swallowing the meat he put on his plate one mouthful after another. "Don't be so quick, Monsieur Bruno!" "Hmph!... If this is mutton... it will smell like mutton!" "Oh! . . . I know that very well! . . . " cried Nisib, who, though calm, was beginning to lose his temper. "Beware, Nisib, beware!" Bruno said hastily swallowed the last few mouthfuls of meat. "It's over, Monsieur Bruno! . . . " "That's right, Nisib... it's over... I understand perfectly!... This time you're quite right!" "Is this mutton?" “Real lamb!” "You devoured! . . . " "Devour, Nisib?...Oh, I can't agree with that word!...Devour?...No!...I just tasted it!" "I've had a full meal!" Nisib said pitifully. "Mr. Bruno, I think you can keep my share, don't eat it all, to prove that this is..." "Mutton, all right, Nisib! My conscience compels me..." "It should be your stomach!" "Recognized it! ... After all, you have nothing to regret!" "Yes, Monsieur Bruno, yes!" "No! . . . You can't eat it!" "why?" "Because it's got lard in it, Nisib, you know... it's got lard in it... and lard is not an orthodox thing!" As Bruno said, he stood up from the table, touched his stomach like a person who had eaten a full meal, and then returned to the living room, followed by Nisib in a panic. Lord Kerabon, Ahme and Van Mittayn lay on wooden benches unable to sleep, as the storm outside became more violent.The wooden boards of the house were scraped and rattled, which made people worry that the lighthouse would be completely broken.The wind beat against the doors and shutters as if with one of those dreaded city-breaching rams, so that they had to be braced up with props.But judging from the shaking of the pillars embedded in the wall, it is not difficult to imagine the power of the wind at a height of 50 feet.The doubt whether the lighthouse could stand the blow, whether its lights could light the course of Atina in rough seas, contained the worst of all possibilities.It was 11:30 in the evening. "There's no way to sleep here!" Kerabong said, standing up and pacing up and down the hall with small steps. "Can't sleep," Ahme replied. "If the hurricane was any stronger, this cabin would be something to worry about, so I think we should be prepared just in case!" "Are you asleep, Van Mettaine, are you going to sleep?" Kerabon asked. So he went over and shook his friend. "I'm dozing off," replied the Dutchman. "That's what a calm man can do! A Dutchman can doze where no one can sleep!" "Never have I seen such a night!" said one of the watchmen. "There's a strong wind blowing by the sea, who knows if the rocks of Atina will be piled with wrecks tomorrow!" "Did you see a boat?" Ahme asked. "No..." replied the watchman, "at least not before sunset. When I climbed up to the lighthouse to turn on the light, I saw nothing on the open sea. Fortunately, because the sea in Atina is dangerous, even if this The lighthouse can illuminate a place five kilometers away from the small harbor, and it is difficult for ships to dock." At this moment a more violent gust of wind blew the door open, as if the house had just been torn to pieces. But Lord Kerabon threw himself on the door and flung it outward, fighting the wind, and with the help of the watchman he finally closed it. "This door is so stubborn!" exclaimed Kerabong, "but I am more stubborn than it!" "Terrible storm!" Ahme sighed. "Dreadful indeed," replied Van Mettain, "almost like those storms which cross the Atlantic and strike our Dutch coast!" "Oh!" Kerabong said, "almost equal!" "Think about it, friend Kerabong, 'those storms are blown across the ocean from America to us! " "Van Mettain, can the roar of the ocean be compared with the Black Sea?" "My friend Kerabong, I don't want to contradict you, but actually..." "Actually, that's what you meant!" Kerabong replied, justifiably in a less than happy mood. "No! . . . I'm just saying . . . " "You mean?..." "I say compared to the ocean, compared to the Atlantic, strictly speaking, the Black Sea is just a lake!" "A lake! . . . " exclaimed Kerabong, looking up. "By Allah! I think you mean a lake!" "A gigantic lake, if you will! . . . " replied Van Mettaine, trying to put it mildly. "A boundless lake . . . is but a lake!" "Why not a pond?" "I didn't say it was a pond at all!" "Why not a puddle?" "I didn't say it was a puddle at all!" "Why not a washbasin?" "I didn't say it was a washbasin at all!" "No! . . . Van Mettaine, but you think so!" "I assure you..." "Well, that's it! . . . A washbasin! . . . Then let a flood come and throw your Holland into this washbasin, and your Holland will be completely submerged in it! . . . Washbasin! " Lord Kerabong repeated the word through gritted teeth, walking up and down the room. "But I sure didn't say anything about the washbasin!" whispered Van Mettaine, looking very embarrassed. "Believe me, young friend," he went on to Ahme, "that statement never occurred to me! . . . The Atlantic . . . " "Well, Mr. van Mettaine," replied Ahmey, "this is not the time to argue about such matters!" "Washbasin!..." The stubborn man repeated between his teeth. He stopped and stared face to face with his Dutch friend, who was too afraid to defend his country because he threatened to drown his territory in the waves of Ouching Bridge. For the next hour, the storm continued to intensify.The two watchmen were very worried, and from time to time they went out from the back door of the house to inspect the wooden frame on the top of the tower. The signal lamp was shaking on the top of the wooden frame. Want to sleep for a while. Nearly two o'clock in the morning, the dazed masters and servants were suddenly shaken violently, the weathershields on the doors and windows were swept away by the wind, and the window glass cracked into flying fragments amidst loud noises. At the same time, in the brief silence, a cannon shot was heard from the open sea.