Adventures of Captain Vrungel read online. Alexander Nekrasov: The Adventures of Captain Vrungel

The name of Captain Vrungel has already become a household name, it is difficult to find someone who would not hear him. But, unfortunately, not everyone knows the detailed history of this bright fictional character. The book "The Adventures of Captain Vrungel" was written by Andrey Nekrasov, and then cartoons were made based on it, but they have plot discrepancies with the book.

This is a collection of fascinating stories about navigation that will be of interest to children, adults will be able to remember their childhood and be distracted by light reading. However, the book contains a bit of sarcasm and mockery of the way of life and habits of people. And the prototype of the protagonist was a friend of the writer himself, it was his stories that prompted Nekrasov to create such a collection of funny stories.

At the very beginning of the book, the author introduces readers to his hero, talking about a teacher at a nautical school who suddenly revealed himself to the cadets as a talented captain. The following chapters are already on behalf of Captain Vrungel himself. One day he decided to remember the old days and sail on the Pobeda sailing yacht. He took an assistant with him, strong, hardy, but too simple-hearted and narrow-minded - Lom takes all the words literally. Their adventures began already before the start of the journey, at the moment of departure, their yacht suddenly changed its name to "Trouble". And then even more interesting things happened, there were many unusual places, dangers, adventures, curious cases and fascinating stories that formed the basis of this book.

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Chapter I, in which the author introduces the reader to the hero, and in which there is nothing extraordinary

Navigation at our nautical school was taught by Christopher Bonifatievich Vrungel.

Navigation, - he said at the first lesson, - is a science that teaches us to choose the safest and most profitable sea routes, lay these routes on maps and drive ships along them ... Navigation, - he added at last, - is not an exact science. In order to fully master it, you need personal experience long practical swimming ...

This unremarkable introduction was the cause of fierce disputes for us and all the students of the school were divided into two camps. Some believed, and not without reason, that Vrungel was nothing more than an old sea wolf at rest. He knew navigation brilliantly, taught interestingly, with a twinkle, and apparently he had enough experience. It seemed that Khristofor Bonifatievich had indeed surfed all the seas and oceans.

But people, as you know, are different. Some are gullible beyond measure, others, on the contrary, are prone to criticism and doubt. There were those among us who claimed that our professor, unlike other navigators, never went to sea himself.

To prove this absurd assertion, they cited the appearance of Christopher Bonifatievich. And his appearance really somehow did not fit with our idea of ​​\u200b\u200ba brave sailor.

Khristofor Bonifatievich Vrungel walked in a gray sweatshirt, belted with an embroidered belt, combed his hair smoothly from the back of his head to his forehead, wore pince-nez on a black lace without a rim, shaved cleanly, was obese and short, his voice was restrained and pleasant, often smiled, rubbed his hands, sniffed tobacco and in all his appearance he looked more like a retired pharmacist than a sea captain.

And so, in order to resolve the dispute, we somehow asked Vrungel to tell us about his past campaigns.

Well, what are you! Now is not the time, - he objected with a smile, and instead of the next lecture, he arranged an extraordinary control on navigation.

When, after the call, he came out with a pack of notebooks under his arm, our disputes ceased. Since then, no one has doubted that, unlike other navigators, Khristofor Bonifatievich Vrungel gained his experience at home, without embarking on a long voyage.

So we would have remained with this erroneous opinion if I had not been lucky enough to hear from Vrungel himself a story about a round-the-world trip full of dangers and adventures very soon, but quite unexpectedly.

It came out by accident. That time, after the control, Khristofor Bonifatievich disappeared. Three days later we learned that on the way home he lost his galoshes in the tram, got his feet wet, caught a cold and went to bed. And the time was hot: spring, tests, exams ... We needed notebooks every day ... And so, as the head of the course, they sent me to Vrungel's apartment.

I went. Easily found an apartment, knocked. And then, while I was standing in front of the door, Vrungel appeared to me quite clearly, lined with pillows and wrapped in blankets, from under which a nose reddened from a cold sticks out.

I knocked again, louder. Nobody answered me. Then I pressed the doorknob, opened the door and ... was dumbfounded by surprise.

Instead of a modest retired pharmacist at the table, deep in reading some ancient book, sat a formidable captain in full dress uniform, with gold stripes on his sleeves. He gnawed ferociously at a huge smoky pipe, there was no mention of pince-nez, and his gray, disheveled hair stuck out in tufts in all directions. Even the nose, although it really turned red, became somehow more solid with Vrungel and expressed determination and courage with all its movements.

On the table in front of Vrungel, in a special rack, stood a model of a yacht with high masts, with snow-white sails, decorated with multi-colored flags. There was a sextant nearby. A carelessly thrown bundle of cards half covered a dried shark fin. Instead of a carpet, a walrus skin with a head and with fangs was spread on the floor, an Admiralty anchor with two bows of a rusty chain was lying in the corner, a curved sword hung on the wall, and next to it was a harpoon-killer. There was something else, but I did not have time to consider.

The door creaked. Vrungel raised his head, closed the book with a small dagger, got up and, staggering like in a storm, stepped towards me.

Very nice to meet you. Sea captain Vrungel Khristofor Bonifatievich, - he said in a thunderous bass, holding out his hand to me. To what do you owe your visit?

I confess, I got a little scared.

Why, Khristofor Bonifatievich, about notebooks ... the guys sent ... - I began.

Guilty, - he interrupted me, - Guilty, I did not recognize. The cursed disease has shattered all memory. Star has become, nothing can be done ... Yes ... so, you say, behind notebooks? - asked Vrungel and, bending down, began to rummage under the table.

Finally, he took out a pack of notebooks and slapped them with his broad, hairy hand, and slapped them so hard that the dust flew in all directions.

Here, if you please, - he said, preliminary loudly, with taste, sneezing, - everyone is “excellent” ... Yes, sir, “excellent”! Congratulations! With a full knowledge of the science of navigation, you will go to surf the sea under the shadow of a merchant flag ... It is commendable, and, you know, also entertaining. Ah, young man, how many indescribable pictures, how many indelible impressions await you ahead! Tropics, poles, sailing along the arc of a great circle ... - he added dreamily. - You know, I raved about all this until I swam myself.

Did you swim? Without thinking, I exclaimed.

Adventures of Captain Vrungel

Navigation at our nautical school was taught by Christopher Bonifatievich Vrungel.

“Navigation,” he said in the first lesson, “is a science that teaches us to choose the safest and most profitable sea routes, plot these routes on maps and navigate ships along them ... Navigation,” he added at last, “is not an exact science. In order to fully master it, personal experience of prolonged practical navigation is necessary ...

This unremarkable introduction was the cause of fierce disputes for us and all the students of the school were divided into two camps. Some believed, and not without reason, that Vrungel was nothing more than an old sea wolf at rest. He knew navigation brilliantly, taught interestingly, with a twinkle, and apparently he had enough experience. It seemed that Khristofor Bonifatievich had indeed surfed all the seas and oceans.

But people, as you know, are different. Some are gullible beyond measure, others, on the contrary, are prone to criticism and doubt. There were those among us who claimed that our professor, unlike other navigators, never went to sea himself.

To prove this absurd assertion, they cited the appearance of Christopher Bonifatievich. And his appearance really somehow did not fit with our idea of ​​\u200b\u200ba brave sailor.

Khristofor Bonifatievich Vrungel walked in a gray sweatshirt, belted with an embroidered belt, combed his hair smoothly from the back of his head to his forehead, wore pince-nez on a black lace without a rim, shaved cleanly, was obese and short, his voice was restrained and pleasant, often smiled, rubbed his hands, sniffed tobacco and in all his appearance he looked more like a retired pharmacist than a sea captain.

And so, in order to resolve the dispute, we somehow asked Vrungel to tell us about his past campaigns.

- Well, what are you! Now is not the time,” he objected with a smile, and instead of another lecture, he arranged an extraordinary navigation test.

When, after the call, he came out with a pack of notebooks under his arm, our disputes ceased. Since then, no one has doubted that, unlike other navigators, Khristofor Bonifatievich Vrungel gained his experience at home, without embarking on a long voyage.

So we would have remained with this erroneous opinion if I had not been lucky enough to hear from Vrungel himself a story about a round-the-world trip full of dangers and adventures very soon, but quite unexpectedly.

It came out by accident. That time, after the control, Khristofor Bonifatievich disappeared. Three days later we learned that on the way home he lost his galoshes in the tram, got his feet wet, caught a cold and went to bed. And the time was hot: spring, tests, exams ... We needed notebooks every day ... And so, as the head of the course, they sent me to Vrungel's apartment.

I went. Easily found an apartment, knocked. And then, while I was standing in front of the door, Vrungel appeared to me quite clearly, lined with pillows and wrapped in blankets, from under which a nose reddened from a cold sticks out.

I knocked again, louder. Nobody answered me. Then I pressed the doorknob, opened the door and ... was dumbfounded by surprise.

Instead of a modest retired pharmacist at the table, deep in reading some ancient book, sat a formidable captain in full dress uniform, with gold stripes on his sleeves. He gnawed ferociously at a huge smoky pipe, there was no mention of pince-nez, and his gray, disheveled hair stuck out in tufts in all directions. Even the nose, although it really turned red, became somehow more solid with Vrungel and expressed determination and courage with all its movements.

On the table in front of Vrungel, in a special rack, stood a model of a yacht with high masts, with snow-white sails, decorated with multi-colored flags. There was a sextant nearby. A carelessly thrown bundle of cards half covered a dried shark fin. On the floor, instead of a carpet, a walrus skin with a head and with fangs was spread, an Admiralty anchor with two bows of a rusty chain was lying in the corner, a curved sword hung on the wall, and next to it was a harpoon-killer. There was something else, but I did not have time to consider.

The door creaked. Vrungel raised his head, closed the book with a small dagger, got up and, staggering like in a storm, stepped towards me.

- Very nice to meet you. Sea captain Vrungel Khristofor Bonifatievich,” he said in a thunderous bass, holding out his hand to me. To what do you owe your visit?

Chapter I, in which the author introduces the reader to the hero, and in which there is nothing extraordinary

Navigation at our nautical school was taught by Christopher Bonifatievich Vrungel.

“Navigation,” he said in the first lesson, “is a science that teaches us to choose the safest and most profitable sea routes, plot these routes on maps and navigate ships along them ... Navigation,” he added at last, “is not an exact science. In order to fully master it, personal experience of prolonged practical navigation is necessary ...

This unremarkable introduction was the cause of fierce disputes for us and all the students of the school were divided into two camps. Some believed, and not without reason, that Vrungel was nothing more than an old sea wolf at rest. He knew navigation brilliantly, taught interestingly, with a twinkle, and apparently he had enough experience. It seemed that Khristofor Bonifatievich had indeed surfed all the seas and oceans.

But people, as you know, are different. Some are gullible beyond measure, others, on the contrary, are prone to criticism and doubt. There were those among us who claimed that our professor, unlike other navigators, never went to sea himself.

To prove this absurd assertion, they cited the appearance of Christopher Bonifatievich. And his appearance really somehow did not fit with our idea of ​​\u200b\u200ba brave sailor.

Khristofor Bonifatievich Vrungel walked in a gray sweatshirt, belted with an embroidered belt, combed his hair smoothly from the back of his head to his forehead, wore pince-nez on a black lace without a rim, shaved cleanly, was obese and short, his voice was restrained and pleasant, often smiled, rubbed his hands, sniffed tobacco and in all his appearance he looked more like a retired pharmacist than a sea captain.

And so, in order to resolve the dispute, we somehow asked Vrungel to tell us about his past campaigns.

- Well, what are you! Now is not the time,” he objected with a smile, and instead of another lecture, he arranged an extraordinary navigation test.

When, after the call, he came out with a pack of notebooks under his arm, our disputes ceased. Since then, no one has doubted that, unlike other navigators, Khristofor Bonifatievich Vrungel gained his experience at home, without embarking on a long voyage.

So we would have remained with this erroneous opinion if I had not been lucky enough to hear from Vrungel himself a story about a round-the-world trip full of dangers and adventures very soon, but quite unexpectedly.

It came out by accident. That time, after the control, Khristofor Bonifatievich disappeared. Three days later we learned that on the way home he lost his galoshes in the tram, got his feet wet, caught a cold and went to bed. And the time was hot: spring, tests, exams ... We needed notebooks every day ... And so, as the head of the course, they sent me to Vrungel's apartment.

I went. Easily found an apartment, knocked. And then, while I was standing in front of the door, Vrungel appeared to me quite clearly, lined with pillows and wrapped in blankets, from under which a nose reddened from a cold sticks out.

I knocked again, louder. Nobody answered me. Then I pressed the doorknob, opened the door and ... was dumbfounded by surprise.

Instead of a modest retired pharmacist at the table, deep in reading some ancient book, sat a formidable captain in full dress uniform, with gold stripes on his sleeves. He gnawed ferociously at a huge smoky pipe, there was no mention of pince-nez, and his gray, disheveled hair stuck out in tufts in all directions. Even the nose, although it really turned red, became somehow more solid with Vrungel and expressed determination and courage with all its movements.

On the table in front of Vrungel, in a special rack, stood a model of a yacht with high masts, with snow-white sails, decorated with multi-colored flags. There was a sextant nearby. A carelessly thrown bundle of cards half covered a dried shark fin. On the floor, instead of a carpet, a walrus skin with a head and with fangs was spread, an Admiralty anchor with two bows of a rusty chain was lying in the corner, a curved sword hung on the wall, and next to it was a harpoon-killer. There was something else, but I did not have time to consider.

The door creaked. Vrungel raised his head, closed the book with a small dagger, got up and, staggering like in a storm, stepped towards me.

- Very nice to meet you. Sea captain Vrungel Khristofor Bonifatievich,” he said in a thunderous bass, holding out his hand to me. To what do you owe your visit?

I confess, I got a little scared.

“Well, Khristofor Bonifatievich, about notebooks… the guys sent…” I began.

“I'm sorry,” he interrupted me, “I'm sorry, I didn't recognize it. The cursed disease has shattered all memory. Star has become, nothing can be done ... Yes ... so, you say, behind notebooks? - Vrungel asked and, bending down, began to rummage under the table.

Finally, he took out a pack of notebooks and slapped them with his broad, hairy hand, and slapped them so hard that the dust flew in all directions.

“Here, if you please,” he said, preliminary loudly, with taste, sneezing, “everyone is “excellent” ... Yes, sir, “excellent”! Congratulations! With a full knowledge of the science of navigation, you will go to surf the sea under the shadow of a merchant flag ... It is commendable, and, you know, also entertaining. Ah, young man, how many indescribable pictures, how many indelible impressions await you ahead! Tropics, poles, sailing in a great circle…” he added wistfully. - You know, I raved about all this until I swam myself.

- Did you swim? Without thinking, I exclaimed.

- But how! Vrungel was offended. - I something? I swam. I, my friend, swam. He even swam. In some ways, the world's only trip around the world on a two-seater sailing yacht. One hundred and forty thousand miles. Lots of visits, lots of adventures... Of course, times are not the same now. And morals have changed, and the position, - he added, after a pause. - Much, so to speak, appears now in a different light, but still, you know, you look back like this, into the depths of the past, and you have to admit: there was a lot of both amusing and instructive in that campaign. There is something to remember, there is something to tell! .. Yes, you sit down ...

With these words, Khristofor Bonifatievich pushed a whale vertebra towards me. I sat down on it like on a chair, and Vrungel began to talk.

Chapter II, in which Captain Vrungel talks about how his senior assistant Lom studied English, and about some particular cases of the practice of navigation

I sat like this in my kennel, and, you know, I got tired. Decided to shake the old days - and shook. He shook it so much that dust went all over the world! .. Yes, sir. Excuse me, are you in a hurry now? That is great. Then we'll start in order.

At that time, of course, I was younger, but not so much that I was a boy at all. No. And the experience was behind him, and years. Shot, so to speak, a sparrow, in good standing, with a position, and, I will tell you without boasting, on merit. Under such circumstances, I could have commanded the largest steamship. This is also quite interesting. But at that time the largest ship was just at sea, and I was not used to waiting, I spat and decided: I would go on a yacht. It is also, you know, not a joke - to go on a round-the-world voyage on a double sailing vessel.

Well, I began to look for a vessel suitable for the implementation of the plan, and, imagine, I found it. Just what you need. Built just for me.

The yacht, however, required minor repairs, but under my personal supervision they put it in order in no time: they painted it, put new sails, masts, changed the skin, shortened the keel by two feet, extended the sides ... In a word, I had to tinker. But it was not a yacht that came out - a toy! Forty feet on deck. As they say: "The shell is in the power of the sea."

I don't like premature conversations. I put the ship at the bank, covered it with a tarpaulin, and for the time being I started preparing for the trip.

The success of such an enterprise, as you know, largely depends on the personnel of the expedition. Therefore, I was especially careful in choosing my companion - the only helper and comrade in this long and difficult journey. And, I must admit, I was lucky: my senior assistant Lom turned out to be a man of amazing spiritual qualities. Here, judge for yourself: seven-foot-six, voice like a steamboat, extraordinary physical strength, stamina. For all that, excellent knowledge of the matter, amazing modesty - in a word, everything that a first-class sailor needs. But Loma also had a drawback. The only one, but serious: complete ignorance foreign languages. This, of course, is an important vice, but it did not stop me. I weighed the situation, thought, figured it out and ordered Lom to urgently master English colloquial speech. And, you know, Lom took possession. Not without difficulty, but mastered in three weeks.

For this purpose, I chose a special, hitherto unknown method of teaching: I invited two teachers for my senior assistant. At the same time, one taught him from the beginning, from the alphabet, and the other from the end. And, imagine, with the alphabet, Lom didn’t work out, especially with pronunciation. Day and night, my senior assistant Lom learned difficult English letters. And, you know, it wasn't without problems. So one day he was sitting at the table, studying the ninth letter English alphabet- "ay".

“Ai… ai… ai…” he repeated in every way, louder and louder.

The neighbor heard, looked in, sees: a healthy kid is sitting, shouting “ay!”. Well, I decided that the poor thing was bad, called " ambulance". We've arrived. They threw a straitjacket on the guy, and with difficulty I got him out of the hospital the next day. However, everything ended happily: exactly three weeks later, my senior assistant Lom reported to me that both teachers had taught him to the middle, and thus the task was completed. On the same day I made an appointment. We were already delayed.

And finally, the long-awaited moment has arrived. Now, perhaps, this event would have passed unnoticed. But at that time such trips were a curiosity. sensation, so to speak. And it is not surprising that in the morning that day crowds of curious crowded the shore. Here, you know, flags, music, general jubilation ... I got into the steering wheel and commanded:

- Raise the sails, give the bow, the rudder to the right!

The sails soared, blossomed like white wings, took the wind, and the yacht, you know, is standing still. We gave up the stern end - it's still worth it. Well, I see that we need to take drastic measures. And just then the tug was passing by. I grabbed the horn, I shout:

- Hey, in tow! End it, damn it!

The tug pulled, puffs, lathers the water behind the stern, just does not stand on its hind legs, and the yacht does not move ... What kind of parable?

Suddenly something thumped, the yacht tilted, I lost consciousness for a moment, and when I woke up, I looked - the configuration of the coast changed dramatically, the crowds dispersed, the water is teeming with hats, an ice cream booth is floating right there, a young man with a movie camera is sitting on top of it and turns the handle.

And under the board we have a whole green island. I looked - and understood everything: the carpenters overlooked, put a fresh forest. And, imagine, over the summer the yacht has taken root and grown with all its side. And I was still wondering: where did such beautiful bushes on the shore come from? Yes. And the yacht is built firmly, the tug is good, the rope is strong. As they pulled, half the shore was carried away along with the bushes. No wonder, you know, fresh wood is not recommended for use in shipbuilding ... An unpleasant story, to be sure, but, fortunately, everything ended happily, without casualties.

The delay was not part of my plans, of course, but nothing can be done about it. This, as they say, "force majeure" - an unforeseen circumstance. I had to anchor and clear the sides. And then, you know, it’s inconvenient: you won’t meet fishermen - the fish will laugh. It is not suitable to swim with his estate.

My senior assistant Lom and I have been busy with this work all day. They suffered, I confess, pretty much, got wet, froze ... And now the night has descended over the sea, the stars have poured out in the sky, on the ships they beat the midnight flask. I let Lom sleep, and I myself remained on watch. I stand, reflecting on the difficulties and delights of the upcoming campaign. And so, you know, I was daydreaming, I did not notice how the night passed.

And in the morning a terrible surprise awaited me: I not only lost a day of progress with this accident - I lost the name of the ship!

Maybe you think that the name does not play a role? Wrong, young man! A name is to a ship what a family name is to a person. Yes, it’s not far to go for an example: Vrungel, let’s say, is a sonorous, beautiful surname. And if I were some kind of Zabodai-Bodailo, or if I had a student - Gopher ... How could I count on the respect and trust that I enjoy now? Just imagine: sea captain Gopher... Ridiculous, sir!

So is the ship. Name the ship "Hercules" or "Bogatyr" - the ice will part before it, and try to call your ship "Trough" - it will float like a trough, and will certainly capsize somewhere in the calmest weather.

That's why I went through and weighed dozens of names before deciding on the one that my beautiful yacht was supposed to wear. I named the yacht "Victory". What a glorious name for a glorious ship! Here is a name that is not ashamed to carry across all the oceans! I ordered cast copper letters and fixed them myself on the stern section. Polished to a shine, they burned with fire. For half a mile you could read: "Victory."

And on that ill-fated day, in the morning, I stand alone on the deck. The sea is calm, the port has not yet woken up, after a sleepless night it is getting sleepy ... Suddenly I see: a hard-working port boat is puffing, coming right up to me and - bang a pack of newspapers on deck! Ambition, of course, is a vice to a certain extent. But we are all people, all people, as they say, and everyone is pleased when they write about him in the newspaper. Yes, sir. And so I open the newspaper. Reading:

“Yesterday’s accident at the start of a round-the-world trip justified the original name that Captain Vrungel gave to his ship in the best possible way ...”

I was a little embarrassed, but, to be honest, I did not really understand what the conversation was about. I grab another newspaper, a third ... Then in one of them a photograph catches my eye: in the left corner is me, in the right is my senior assistant Lom, and in the middle is our beautiful yacht and the signature: “Captain Vrungel and the yacht" Trouble "on which he sets off ... "

Then I understood everything. I rushed to the stern and looked. So it is: knocked down two letters - "P" and "O".

Scandal! Irreparable scandal! But nothing can be done: the newspapermen long tongues. Nobody knows Vrungel, the captain of Pobeda, but the whole world has already learned about my Trouble.

But it didn't take long to grieve. A breeze blew from the shore, the sails stirred, I woke Lom and began to raise the anchor.

And while we were walking along the sea channel, as luck would have it, they shouted to us from all the ships:

- Hey, on the "Trouble", happy sailing!

It was a pity for a beautiful name, but nothing can be done. So they went to the "Trouble".

They went out to sea. I have not yet recovered from my disappointment. And yet I must say: good at sea! No wonder, you know, even the ancient Greeks used to say that the sea washes away all adversity from the human soul.

Let's go. Silence, only the waves rustle along the sides, the mast creaks, and the shore leaves, melts astern. The weather is getting fresher, white squirrels have gone on the waves, petrels have flown in from somewhere, the breeze has become stronger. It works, the real sea, salty wind whistles in gear. So the last lighthouse was left behind, the shores were gone, only the sea around; wherever you look, the sea is everywhere.

I set a course, handed over the command to Lom, stood for another minute on deck and went downstairs to the cabin to take an hour or two nap before the watch. It is not for nothing that we, sailors, say: "You will always have time not to get enough sleep."

He went downstairs, drank a glass of rum at bedtime, lay down on the bed and fell asleep like a log.

And two hours later, vigorous and fresh, I go up on deck. I looked around, looked ahead ... and my eyes darkened.

At first glance - nothing, of course, special: the same sea is all around, the same seagulls, and Lom is in perfect order, holding the helm, but ahead, right in front of the nose of the "Trouble", - barely noticeable, like a gray thread, a strip rises above the horizon coast.

Do you know what it means when the shore is supposed to be thirty miles to your left, and it is right on your bow? This is a complete scandal. Ugliness. Shame and shame on you! I was shocked, outraged and scared. What to do? Believe me, I decided to put the ship on a reverse course and return to the pier in disgrace before it was too late. And then after all, with such an assistant to swim, you will drive in so that you won’t get out, especially at night.

I was about to give the appropriate command, I already took the air into my chest so that it would come out more impressive, but then, fortunately, everything was explained. Loma stuck out his nose. My first assistant turned his nose to the left all the time, greedily sucked in air, and he himself was drawn to the same place.

Well, then I understood everything: in my cabin, on the port side, there was an uncorked bottle of fine rum. And Lom has a rare nose for alcohol, and, of course, he was drawn to the bottle. This happens.

And if so, then the matter is fixable. Somewhat special case navigational practices. There are cases that are not foreseen by science. I did not even think about it, went down to the cabin and quietly transferred the bottle to starboard. Lom's nose stretched like a compass for a magnet, the ship obediently rolled in the same direction, and two hours later the "Trouble" lay on its previous course. Then I put the bottle in front, at the mast, and Crowbar no longer strayed from the course. He led the "Trouble" as if by a thread, and only once particularly greedily breathed in and asked.

Andrey Sergeevich Nekrasov

Adventures of Captain Vrungel

Navigation at our nautical school was taught by Christopher Bonifatievich Vrungel.

Navigation, - he said at the first lesson, - is a science that teaches us to choose the safest and most profitable sea routes, lay these routes on maps and drive ships along them ... Navigation, - he added at last, - is not an exact science. In order to fully master it, personal experience of prolonged practical navigation is necessary ...

This unremarkable introduction was the cause of fierce disputes for us and all the students of the school were divided into two camps. Some believed, and not without reason, that Vrungel was nothing more than an old sea wolf at rest. He knew navigation brilliantly, taught interestingly, with a twinkle, and apparently he had enough experience. It seemed that Khristofor Bonifatievich had indeed surfed all the seas and oceans.

But people, as you know, are different. Some are gullible beyond measure, others, on the contrary, are prone to criticism and doubt. There were those among us who claimed that our professor, unlike other navigators, never went to sea himself.

To prove this absurd assertion, they cited the appearance of Christopher Bonifatievich. And his appearance really somehow did not fit with our idea of ​​\u200b\u200ba brave sailor.

Khristofor Bonifatievich Vrungel walked in a gray sweatshirt, belted with an embroidered belt, combed his hair smoothly from the back of his head to his forehead, wore pince-nez on a black lace without a rim, shaved cleanly, was obese and short, his voice was restrained and pleasant, often smiled, rubbed his hands, sniffed tobacco and in all his appearance he looked more like a retired pharmacist than a sea captain.

And so, in order to resolve the dispute, we somehow asked Vrungel to tell us about his past campaigns.

Well, what are you! Now is not the time, - he objected with a smile, and instead of the next lecture, he arranged an extraordinary control on navigation.

When, after the call, he came out with a pack of notebooks under his arm, our disputes ceased. Since then, no one has doubted that, unlike other navigators, Khristofor Bonifatievich Vrungel gained his experience at home, without embarking on a long voyage.

So we would have remained with this erroneous opinion if I had not been lucky enough to hear from Vrungel himself a story about a round-the-world trip full of dangers and adventures very soon, but quite unexpectedly.

It came out by accident. That time, after the control, Khristofor Bonifatievich disappeared. Three days later we learned that on the way home he lost his galoshes in the tram, got his feet wet, caught a cold and went to bed. And the time was hot: spring, tests, exams ... We needed notebooks every day ... And so, as the head of the course, they sent me to Vrungel's apartment.

I went. Easily found an apartment, knocked. And then, while I was standing in front of the door, Vrungel appeared to me quite clearly, lined with pillows and wrapped in blankets, from under which a nose reddened from a cold sticks out.

I knocked again, louder. Nobody answered me. Then I pressed the doorknob, opened the door and ... was dumbfounded by surprise.

Instead of a modest retired pharmacist at the table, deep in reading some ancient book, sat a formidable captain in full dress uniform, with gold stripes on his sleeves. He gnawed ferociously at a huge smoky pipe, there was no mention of pince-nez, and his gray, disheveled hair stuck out in tufts in all directions. Even the nose, although it really turned red, became somehow more solid with Vrungel and expressed determination and courage with all its movements.

On the table in front of Vrungel, in a special rack, stood a model of a yacht with high masts, with snow-white sails, decorated with multi-colored flags. There was a sextant nearby. A carelessly thrown bundle of cards half covered a dried shark fin. Instead of a carpet, a walrus skin with a head and with fangs was spread on the floor, an Admiralty anchor with two bows of a rusty chain was lying in the corner, a curved sword hung on the wall, and next to it was a harpoon-killer. There was something else, but I did not have time to consider.

The door creaked. Vrungel raised his head, closed the book with a small dagger, got up and, staggering like in a storm, stepped towards me.

Very nice to meet you. Sea captain Vrungel Khristofor Bonifatievich, - he said in a thunderous bass, holding out his hand to me. To what do you owe your visit?

I confess, I got a little scared.

Why, Khristofor Bonifatievich, about notebooks ... the guys sent ... - I began.

Guilty, - he interrupted me, - Guilty, I did not recognize. The cursed disease has shattered all memory. Star has become, nothing can be done ... Yes ... so, you say, behind notebooks? - asked Vrungel and, bending down, began to rummage under the table.

Finally, he took out a pack of notebooks and slapped them with his broad, hairy hand, and slapped them so hard that the dust flew in all directions.

Here, if you please, - he said, preliminary loudly, with taste, sneezing, - everyone is “excellent” ... Yes, sir, “excellent”! Congratulations! With a full knowledge of the science of navigation, you will go to surf the sea under the shadow of a merchant flag ... It is commendable, and, you know, also entertaining. Ah, young man, how many indescribable pictures, how many indelible impressions await you ahead! Tropics, poles, sailing along the arc of a great circle ... - he added dreamily. - You know, I raved about all this until I swam myself.

Did you swim? Without thinking, I exclaimed.

But how! - Vrungel was offended. - Me? I swam. I, my friend, swam. He even swam. In some ways, the world's only trip around the world on a two-seater sailing yacht. One hundred and forty thousand miles. Lots of visits, lots of adventures... Of course, times are not the same now. And morals have changed, and the position, - he added, after a pause. - Much, so to speak, appears now in a different light, but still, you know, you look back like this, into the depths of the past, and you have to admit: there was a lot of both amusing and instructive in that campaign. There is something to remember, there is something to tell! ... Yes, you sit down ...

With these words, Khristofor Bonifatievich pushed a whale vertebra towards me. I sat down on it like on a chair, and Vrungel began to talk.

Chapter II, in which Captain Vrungel talks about how his senior assistant Lom studied English language, and about some particular cases of navigation practice

I sat like this in my kennel, and, you know, I got tired. Decided to shake the old days - and shook. It shook so much that dust went all over the world! ... Yes, sir. Excuse me, are you in a hurry now? That is great. Then we'll start in order.

At that time, of course, I was younger, but not so much that I was a boy at all. No. And the experience was behind him, and years. Shot, so to speak, a sparrow, in good standing, with a position, and, I will tell you without boasting, on merit. Under such circumstances, I could have commanded the largest steamship. This is also quite interesting. But at that time the largest ship was just at sea, and I was not used to waiting, I spat and decided: I would go on a yacht. It is also, you know, not a joke - to go on a round-the-world voyage on a double sailing vessel.

Well, I began to look for a vessel suitable for the implementation of the plan, and, imagine, I found it. Just what you need. Built just for me.

The yacht, however, required minor repairs, but under my personal supervision they put it in order in no time: they painted it, put new sails, masts, changed the skin, shortened the keel by two feet, extended the sides ... In a word, I had to tinker. But it was not a yacht that came out - a toy! Forty feet on deck. As they say: "The shell is in the power of the sea."