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One day a scene took place before him: the sailors were carrying wood, and one of them, the young, curly-haired and gay Yefim, passing the deck of the ship with hand-barrows, said loudly and angrily: "No, he has no conscience whatever! There was no agreement that I should carry wood. A sailor well, one's business is clear but to carry wood into the bargain thank you!
Yefim was pleased with the presence of the young master, who did not rebuke or abuse him for each and every oversight; and the happy frame of mind of the two most important persons on the steamer reflected in straight rays on the entire crew.
"Not quite," replied Yefim, softly, glancing stealthily at Lubov. "Really?" "There's a lady with him. A dark one." "So." "It looks as though the woman is out of her wits," said Yefim, with a sigh. "She's forever singing. She sings very well. It's very captivating." "I am not asking you about her!" cried Mayakin, angrily.
You cannot command me. Do you see?" Yefim was dumfounded. He looked at his master and comically winked his eyes, finding no reply to his words. "Do you understand, I say?" "Yes. I understand!" drawled Yefim. "But what is all this noise about? On account of " "Silence!"
He brought out a big loaf of bread baked in hot ashes, and began to cut it and place the pieces on the table. "Listen!" exclaimed Yefim. "Do you hear that cough?" Rybin listened, and nodded. "Yes, he's coming," he said to Sofya. "The witness is coming. I would lead him through cities, put him in public squares, for the people to hear him. He always says the same thing.
None of the sailors replied to Yefim's grumbling, and even the one who worked with him was silent, only now and then protesting against the earnestness with which Yefim piled up the wood on the stretchers. "Enough!" he would say, morosely, "you are not loading a horse, are you?" "And you had better keep quiet.
Everyone expected that Yefim would show people the places or dig the treasure up himself, but he as the saying is, like a dog in the manger so he died without digging it up himself or showing other people." The overseer lit a pipe, and for an instant lighted up his big moustaches and his sharp, stern-looking, and dignified nose.
Someone crossed the deck and went up to the side of the steamer. "O-o-o," was heard again, but nearer this time. "Yefim!" some one called in a low voice on the deck. "Yefimka!" "Well?" "Devil! Get up! Take the boat-hook." "O-o-o," someone moaned near by, and Foma, shuddering, stepped back from the window.
"What's this? Who's shouting?" he asks sternly, seeing through the branches of the willow the three wet heads of the fishermen. "What are you so busy about there?" "Catching a fish," mutters Yefim, without raising his head. "I'll give it to you! The beasts are in the garden and he is fishing! . . . When will that bathing shed be done, you devils?
Ignat was about to put a piece of bread with caviar into his mouth, but his hand stopped, held back by his son's exclamation; he looked interrogatively at Foma's drooping head and asked: "You mean Yefim, don't you?" "Yes, he was bleeding. And how he walked afterward, how he cried," said the boy in a low voice. "Mm," roared Ignat, chewing a bite. "Well, are you sorry for him?"
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