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Streams of water ran in every direction, and
the lively noise of the men intermingled with the gray splash of
the water. Before, the boy never bothered the sailors in this
playful and light work; nay, he took an active part, besprinkling
them with water and laughingly running away, when they threatened
to pour water over him. But after Yakov and Petrovich had been
discharged, he felt that he was in everybody's way, that no one
cared to play with him and that no one regarded him kindly.
Surprised and melancholy, he left the deck, walked up to the
wheel, sat down there, and, offended, he thoughtfully began to
stare at the distant green bank and the dented strip of woods
upon it. And below, on the deck, the water was splashing
playfully, and the sailors were gaily laughing. He yearned to go
down to them, but something held him back.
"Keep away from them as much as possible," he recalled his
father's words; "you are their master." Then he felt like
shouting at the sailors--something harsh and authoritative, so
his father would scold them.


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