lit a cigarette. Azores on the deck of the trawler also. The Spaniard stood near a board. Ginzburg bent over a board and looked in water. On the trawler the call rang out. Kirillov approached Borin’s table and began to write. Mishina the aunt entered and gave it an envelope. The letter was sent by the companion who went to Pamir.
Probably, the interesting letter, but there is no time to read. Sounds of the Atlantic Ocean as if failed in a silence abyss. And at once incessant noise of Moscow became more heard. On the screen the smoke of a cigar of Azores blinked. Also the screen went out…
What there happened?
And suddenly Mischa saw Protchev. He sat in the cradle which hung in a greenish haze of the ocean. Ropes left up.
Now Protchev, probably, does not feel weight of the suit. Perfectly! Flies “between heaven and earth” and admires the underwater world. In beams of an underwater searchlight it is clearly visible how from an air branch pipe on the copper head the air bubbles similar to mercury droplets rise. This is Protchev “poisons air”, pressing the head “a head zolotnik”.
– Protchev, you hear me? – with emotion Mischa asked.
– I hear – Protchev’s bass sounds.
– Why you went down under water?
– The needle was lost, I look for it.
– And teleeye, what for?
– One eye – is good, two – it is better, and three – it is even better. Unless not so? – Protchev answers. – My field of vision is wider, but an eye is habitual. Still to study a teleeye it is necessary to look in a diving way – Protchev jokes.
In this joke Mischa hears a certain mistrust to novelties.
– What do you see?
– Meanwhile crucians, I do not know how in a local way they are called. Now and you will see the same, as I. Well, where your bubble? – This phrase concerns already Ginzburg.
– I bring, look more to the left! – Motya answers.
A copper helmet of Protchev slepyashche shines. Mischa sees through the wide Mongolian face of the diver flew down. Probably, searchlight absolutely close. Protchev gives the left hand and something catches. His hand approaches the screen, grows, closes all field of vision… Green dregs… A strong sheaf of light, and in it – herd of fishes. Slowly the big beautiful jellyfish floats… The gold sheaf goes to depth of the ocean, gradually weakening, dissipating. And there, below, vague outlines of mountains are visible. Yes, it is mountains, and even covered with vegetation.
The mountain top as if grows and meets halfway… There is no more Moscow, an office, a bed. Whether not Mischa hangs in a cradle and looks at the underwater world? No, it lies in a gondola of underwater “balloon” over the mountain country. The underwater Caucasus, but without glaciers, the mountain rivers and falls. There are no rivers in the region where “airspace” – water.
Again the deck, it is dazzling lit with the sun. The winch rattles. It is heard as waves rustle, hitting against a trawler board. Ginzburg turned back. White teeth flashed…
– Well that there? – the voice is heard. Whose?
Mischa guessed not at once. Ah, it “is told by Moscow”.
Kirillov departs from a table and looks at the screen.
The deck disappeared. Dregs… Mischa lives in “three plans”: under water, on the deck of the trawler and in Moscow.
You will sort nothing… Dregs! Some shadows crawl on the screen…
– Seaweed – Mischa hears a voice of the captain Makovsky.
The dark cloudlet floated. Perhaps, the shark or a killer whale nearby floated. The huge fin, a white belly flashed… And again dregs…
And suddenly via the screen the sparkling line from below spread. It was more and more thickened, took the round form.
– Mast! A mast of the sunk ship! – Mischa exclaimed.
– Yes, it is obvious, it is a mast – Ginzburg answered. – It is well visible to you, Mischa? – he asked.
– Now will clear up – Nikolay Petrovich said.
Mischa did not notice when the father approached. Whether it is a dream?
Mischa, the father, Ginzburg, Barkovsky, Moscow, the Atlantic Ocean – everything crowded in one room. Yes, now Mischa felt like the participant of an expedition. And Ginzburg sees there the same as Mischa.
The mast descended from the screen, the device, probably, turned in other party. The school of large fishes floated in a distance, measuredly waving fins and gleaming silvery bodies. Very long body was thrown, coiling as a snake. Somewhere very far the fosforichesky spark flashed.
“Marvelous, bewitching world of underwater depths! – Mischa thought. – There are no storms, there are no changes of temperature, there is no weather. Always gloom, cold, silence… And there – life, fight, the pleasures and the grief…”
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