Вадим Иванович Кучеренко
The Strait of Death
– Have you tried it yourself?
– You bet! – The old man replied, but there were no longer those boastful notes in his voice. Now there was a genuine respect for that place pernicious for ships, which everyone on the coast called the Strait of Death, not even remembering its official name, marked on the maps. – I survived by a miracle. The only of the whole team. And this is just because, when those weird things began, and our ship suddenly began to crack at all the seams, as if someone was tearing it apart, and everyone started rushing about the deck madly, I tied myself tightly with the tackle to the mast, having kept a flask of water and a few crackers in store.
So, I was carried around the sea for a week, until this damn strait, had played enough with me and threw me ashore, two hundred miles from the crash site. I myself was already like that mast, the skeleton covered with skin, crazy and without memory. But I’ve survived. However, since that time I got blind – either I hit my head, or the sea salt corroded my eyes. And, as I understand now, it was still a small price that the Strait of Death took from me for my life saved. Later on, when I got recovered, I still went to the sea for some time. The only thing I swore not to do is to go to this strait again, no matter how much money I was promised…
In his youth uncle Egor was considered to be the most daring and successful sailor on the entire coast. Many breathtaking stories were told about him, which were still alive today, but were covered with old dust turning into so-called sea stories. People would readily listen to them, but very few would ever believe them. But Anton had no doubt that the old man was not lying. At one time, a quarter of a century ago, he even sailed as a cabin boy on a ship where uncle Egor was a captain, and knew firsthand about his courage and human decency.
At that time he was sure that the old captain was the most fearless person of all who had ever plowed the seas since the creation of the world. Since then, he has grown up and rethought a lot of things. But he still considered uncle Egor his godfather, who made him related to the sea.
– After that I swore no to pass the Strait of Death, – the old sailor repeated. He clenched his small, feeble fist as if threatening someone unknown. – Damn it! How many sea souls it has ruined … No, it is better to pass it by, waste time and money, but reach the port of destination.
– That's right, – Anton briefly confirmed.
But something in his voice made the old man wary. His infirmity of old age had taught him to recognize the true intentions of people, which they tried to hide behind their false words.
