The vapor is such a huge iron box with a crew inside. The life of people in the box is monotonous, boring. There are no weekends, and the day runs around: four hours of watch - eight hours for rest and sleep and again four hours of watch.
Arriving at the port is a turmoil and nervousness: first unloading, then loading, bureaucracy with documents and boring communication with local agents and docks. The port landscape is usually excessively industrial and unusual. Slowly everyone begins to forget what green grass looks like.
And here we enter a small port, just two harbours, and a green-green forest around. The idea of making a shale on the shore seemed to come to everyone’s mind immediately. Already in the evening of the parish, the cocks marinous meat, and in the morning, almost the entire crew went for a picnic. Starpom, who was left on the unloading, swallowed saliva and begged him to bring him at least one piece.
The camp was broken down on a picturesque pavement overlooking the native vessel. Half an hour later, the tempting smell of shale gathered us and the Swedish police at the mangal. Local law enforcement officers told strange things: first, we are in Sweden, not in Russia, secondly, in the woods, you can't cut the socks, you can't raise the fire, you can't drink alcohol, you can't rubbish, and you can't even bring a large, sealed metal box with coals inside. And most importantly: the penalty for each offence and from each picnic participant is summed up.
The master whispered, swung a flat bottle of whiskey into his pocket and offered to move the negotiations to his cabin. The brothers did not object. Only three arrived in the captain’s cabin: the master, the sailor Shurik and the cock. (The whisker the captain hid from the police in his pocket was Shurika.) The rest were lost along the way, along with the mangal and the shaleys.
The reduction in the number of offenders did not bother the Swedes. The damaging police aunt said: “I have all the offenders counted.” The captain began to assure her that the offender was only one, and the others, so, passed by. A Swedish woman argued that one person could not eat a can of meat. Her partner, an uncle of fifty years old, bitterly breathed and silently drank dietary cola, surprised by the labels of exotic bottles from the captain’s collection.
The master told his aunt a sad story about a Russian sailor suffering for his faith:
- Understand, he was a "Orthodox Orthodontic" and from meat can only eat pork neck, which three days and three nights marinated in a special sacred vessel, and then burned on open fire under an evergreen tree - composed the captain, interfering with English, Russian and Swedish words - here "Orthodontic" and suffers, preparing meat for a month, or even two ahead.
Swedes are impressed:
Who is the Orthodontic? She asked.