EVERYONE. Bitter! Bitter! Sweeten it up!
APLOMBOV and DASHENKA kiss.
REVUNOV. Heh, heh, heh . . . Your health.
Pause.
Yessir . . . in the olden days everything was simple and everybody was contented . . . I love simplicity . . . I’m an old man, you know, went into retirement in eighteen hundred and sixty-five . . . I’m seventy-two . . . Yes, indeed. Even so, in the old days, they liked to put on the dog every once in a while, but . . . (Noticing Mozgovoy.) You there . . . a sailor, are you?
MOZOGOY. Aye, aye, sir.
REVUNOV. Aha . . . Aye . . . Yes . . . Serving in the navy was always tough. A man had to keep his wits about him and rack his brains. The slightest little word had its own special meaning, so to speak! For instance, “Topmen aloft to the foresail and mainsail yards!” What does that mean? Never fear, your sailor gets the drift! Heh, heh. It’s as tricky as that arithmetic of yours!
NYUNIN. To the health of His Excellency Fyodor Yakovlevich Revunov-Karaulov!
The band plays a fanfare. Cheers.
YAT. Now, Your Excellency, you’ve been good enough to mention how hard it is serving in the navy. But you think telegraphy’s any easier? These days, Your Excellency, nobody’s employed on the telegraph unless he can read and write French and German. But the toughest thing we’re up against is sending telegrams. Awfully hard! Just listen to this. (Taps his fork on the table, in imitation of sending a telegram in Morse code.)
REVUNOV. What does it mean?
YAT. It means: “I respect you, Your Excellency, for your loving kindness.” You think that’s easy? Here’s some more . . . (Taps.)
REVUNOV. Make it louder . . . I can’t hear . . .
YAT. And that means: “Madam, how happy I am to hold you in my embrace!”
REVUNOV. What’s all this about a madam? Yes . . . (To Mozgovoy.) Look here, suppose you’re running before a full breeze and have to . . . have to set your top-gallants and royals! Then you’ve got to give the command, “Crosstrees aloft to the shrouds, the top-gallants and royals . . .” And while they’re casting loose the sails on the yards, below they’re manning the topgallant and royal sheets, halyards and braces . . .13
BEST MAN (rising). My dear ladies and kind gentle . . .
REVUNOV (interrupting). Yessiree . . . No end of different commands . . . Aye, aye . . . “In on the top-gallant and royal sheets! Haul taut the halyards!” Pretty good, eh? But what’s it all mean, what’s the sense of it? Why, very simple. They haul, y’see, the top-gallant and royal sheets and lift off the halyards . . . all together! Next they square the royal sheets and royal halyards as they hoist, and meanwhile, keeping a weather-eye out, they ease off the braces from those sails, so that when, as a result, the sheets are taut and all the halyards run right up, then the top-gallants and royals are drawing and the yards are braced according to the way the wind’s blowing . . .
NYUNIN (to Revunov). Fyodor Yakovlevich, our hostess requests you talk about something else. The guests can’t make head or tail of this, so they’re bored . . .
REVUNOV. What? Who’s bored? (To Mozgovoy.) Young fellow! Now then, suppose your craft lies close-hauled on the starboard tack under full sail and you’ve got to wear ship. What command must you give? Why, look here: pipe all hands on deck, wear ship! . . . Heh, heh . . .
NYUNIN. Fyodor Yakovlevich, that’s enough! Have something to eat.
REVUNOV. As soon as they’re all on deck, the command is given at once: “Stand by to wear ship!” Ech, what a life! You give the commands, and then you watch the sailors running to their posts like lightning, and they unfurl the top-gallants and the braces. And then you can’t hold back and you shout, “Well done, my hearties!” (Chokes and coughs.)
BEST MAN (rushes to take advantage of the consequent pause). On this day of days, so to speak, when we are all gathered together to honor our beloved . . .
REVUNOV (interrupting). Yessiree! And, y’see, you’ve got to remember all that! For instance: let fly the foresheet, the mainsheet! . . .
BEST MAN (offended). Why does he keep interrupting? We’ll never get through a single speech at this rate!
NASTASYA TIMOFEEVNA. We’re ignorant folk, Your Excellency, we can’t make head or tail of this, so you’d better talk about something that’s more use . . .
REVUNOV (not hearing). I’ve already eaten, thanks. You did say: goose? No thanks . . . Aye . . . I was recalling the olden days . . . Those were jolly times, young fellow! You sail the seas, not a care to your name, and . . . (His voice a-tremble.) remember the excitement when they had to tack about! What seaman doesn’t catch fire at the memory of that maneuver?! Why, as soon as the command rings out: Pipe all hands on deck, ready about—you’d think an electric spark was running through the lot of ‘em. From the admiral down to the lowliest deckhand—every heart is beating faster . . .
ZMEYUKINA. Boring! Boring!
General murmur.
REVUNOV (not hearing). No thanks, I’ve eaten. (Carried away.) They all stand at the ready, and fix their eyes on the first mate . . . “Haul taut the foretop and main braces on the starboard and the mizzentop braces and counterbraces on the port side!” commands the first mate. It’s all carried out in an instant . . . “Let fly the foresheet, the jib sheet . . . Hard a’star-board!” (Rises.) The craft comes up with the wind, and finally the sails start flapping about. First mate: “The braces, look alive to the braces,” and his own eyes are fixed to the main topsail, and when at last even that sail starts to flap, I mean, the moment when the craft comes about, the command rings out like thunder: “Let go the main top bowline, pay out the braces!” Then everything flies, snaps—all hell breaks loose! — it’s all carried out with nary a hitch. We’ve managed to bring her about!
NASTASYA TIMOFEEVNA (boiling over). A general, but with no manners . . . You ought to be ashamed at your time of life! It’s unreal, stop!
REVUNOV. A veal chop? No, I haven’t had one . . . Thanks.
NASTASYA TIMOFEEVNA (loudly). I said, you should be ashamed at your time of life! A general, but with no manners!
NYUNIN (embarrassed). Ladies and gentlemen, look here . . . what’s the difference? Honestly . . .
REVUNOV. In the first place, I’m not a general, I’m a captain second class, which is equivalent in the military ranking to a lieutenant-colonel.
NASTASYA TIMOFEEVNA. If you’re no general, then why did you take the money? We didn’t pay you good money so you could act like a hooligan!
REVUNOV (bewildered). What money?
NASTASYA TIMOFEEVNA. You know what money. You got twenty-five rubles from Andrey Andreevich, no questions asked . . . (To Nyunin.) As for you, Andryusha sweetie, you’re a disgrace! I didn’t ask you to hire this sort of thing!
NYUNIN. Come on . . . cut it out! What’s the difference?