When they began tacking
along, talking at the top of their voices on that part of the deck
known by experienced travelers to be reserved for repose and reading,
however, they began to irritate me. When one of them threw himself
into the Baron's chair and displayed that beastly annoying habit of
continually wriggling and creaking the chair, meanwhile shouting to
his companion at the top of his lungs, I lost all patience. It only
needed Baron Huraki's appearance and quiet request for the evacuation
of his deck chair, and the insolent stare and non-compliance of the
Russian, to make me chip in with:
"Damn it, sir! You don't own the whole world yet."
I went on in terse military German which eighty per cent. of all
Russian officers know and the trend of which is never misunderstood.
I pointed out that any further encroaching would be resented in a most
drastic and sudden manner. The usual farcical exchange of cards,
permitting all sorts of bluffs, does not impress a Russian, but the
imminent chance of blows from fists does. A pair of astonished
bulging eyes, a muttered apology and quietness reigned.
With a mild smile Baron Huraki dropped into his chair, but I did not
like the expression in his eyes. Knowing the prowess of the Baron as
an exponent of his national system of self-defense (I had seen him
harmlessly toss about the biggest sailor on the _Bayern_, the chief
butcher, who was as strong as an ox), I said:
"It's a wonder to me, Baron, that you didn't throw that boor half way
across the deck.
Pages:
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49