THE TINY SCREW
N the watchmaker's bench, which was covered with white paper, so that all the little things needed for his trade should be easy to see, were spread out various small pincers, gimlets, screwdrivers, tiny hammers, watchkeys, files, and other delicate instruments. Under a glass case lay watches and clocks taken to pieces. There were some open boxes filled with cog-wheels, and some watch-glasses, in which lay some wee screws. Among these was a very pretty one, of blue, finely-tempered steel, but so tiny that he could not be seen properly without a magnifying-glass. He looked round the workroom quite frightened at all his new surroundings. Until now he had lain in a dark, closed box and hardly had ever seen the light; now the watchmaker, Karl Ivánovich, had taken him out of the box and laid him in a watch-glass, evidently intending to use him. And now the little blue mite peered round, wondering and frightened.
Indeed, what wonder! Round the walls, in shallow cupboards with glass doors, in flat cases with sloping glass lids, on the large table, on the benches—everywhere, hung or lay or stood watches and clocks of all kinds and sizes, and most of them were moving and ticking like live things. The cheap clocks with tin or china faces, decorated with rather clumsily-painted roses, wagged their pendulums hastily backwards and forwards, as though hurrying to work or to business. The huge clocks in wooden and glass cases, on the contrary, swung their pendulums with a hardly perceptible motion, as though they feared to compromise their dignity by any haste. All sorts of wonderful things were on the table. There was a clock in the shape of a great fallen tree-trunk, across which a log was thrown, with boys sitting on the ends of it, swinging in time to the ticking of the clock. Another represented a gray hare squatting on his haunches, holding the dial between his forefeet and moving his ears in time as the clock ticked. But our tiny Screw was most impressed by a large clock, standing at one corner of the shop in a huge glass case. The clock itself represented an Indian temple with a dome, all carved in black wood. Inside the temple was the dial, also black, with gold letters; the hands were gold snakes. Under the dial, a little in front, sat a gray-haired magician in a long robe and high cap, holding in his right hand a silver hammer. The old man, with his grave expression of face, was so well carved that he looked quite alive. But the most wonderful thing of all was that he never stopped slowly turning his eyes from side to side, keeping time with the solemn, hardly audible ticking of the clock; he seemed as if watching to see that all was in order in his kingdom of time. At his right hand stood a shining silver bell on a tall and slender pedestal; and at his left a black cat was sitting on a cushion; it had real fur, and its green eyes glittered as if alive.
Our little Screw gazed intently at the magician in his Indian temple, at his cat and bell—he gazed upon them with involuntary reverence and awe—and finally decided that the enigmatic old man must be the ruler of time, and that all the clocks in the place must be in his service. He was still meditating upon this, when suddenly the black clock began to hiss, the magician raised his left hand with the forefinger extended, as if commanding attention, and began slowly striking the silver bell with his hammer. He struck it ten times, and every time the cat opened its mouth and mewed at each stroke of the hammer.
The moment the magician had finished, an indescribable confusion arose in the shop: in three clocks, which represented houses, windows opened; from each window a cuckoo jumped out and called 'cuckoo' ten times. The other clocks, with the tin, china, and copper dials, all began striking in emulation of each other. Some struck rapidly and with a thin sound, others slowly and heavily; the first jarred on the ear with their harsh notes, while the others had a mellow ring; but all struck at once, as though trying to catch one another up. The brass alarum, which stood on the table, rattled long and mercilessly, as if it were determined to silence all the others with its deafening noise; then, when the other clocks had finished striking, it too struck ten. After that all the clocks continued busily ticking, just as if nothing had happened.
All this ringing, banging, and noise made our Screw quite dizzy; the poor little fellow lay in his watch-glass trembling all over. But when he recovered from his agitation, he was overwhelmed with silent ecstasy. He understood for what purpose clocks exist. He knew that they show to man the divisions of time, thus helping him in both his intellectual work and his ordinary life. Two men, however far apart from one another, can, if only they have good watches, come at the same moment to a particular spot, or do whatever they may have agreed upon—even the height of mountains is determined by means of watches. The little Screw understood all this, and his wee frame thrilled all over with enthusiasm. 'How useful they all are!' he thought. This set him involuntarily thinking of himself, and he grew sad—sad even to tears. How tiny he was! how insignificant and pitiable compared with all these clocks! If you were to hang up even the worst of them in a house where there was before no clock at all, there would at once be in that house more order, more reason and utility. But he! wherever you were to put him, it would make no difference.
Our Screw was very unhappy; he tried so long to be of use to some one, and he felt that he was fit for nothing! Once more he looked attentively round the bench. There were a great number of little axles, wires, pendulums, pinions, and springs. He did not understand for what they could be used, but he saw one thing—that every one of these little objects was larger than himself. 'Oh dear!' he thought, 'even if all these little things are useless in themselves, still, something useful can be made out of them. But what can be made of such a non-entity as I am—I, who cannot even be seen with the naked eye? Nothing, absolutely nothing!...' And all the tiny person of the Screw quivered with grief.
At that moment there ran into the workshop a little boy and girl, the children of Karl Ivánovich. Their father had gone to fetch his pipe; his assistant, Yegór,[5] had also left the shop, and the children had a chance to enjoy a peep at the wonders of the workshop, into which Karl Ivánovich generally would not let them come. The boy ran up to his father's bench and began quickly examining the things lying upon it.
'Look, look at the little Screw!' he said to his sister in a loud whisper, turning to take the blue steel Screw from the watch-glass.
'Don't touch! Don't touch; you'll drop it!' whispered the little girl, half frightened, but also looking inquisitively at our Screw.
'What next! Drop it!' repeated the boy, mimicking her. 'We're not all such butter-fingers as you!' and in a fit of obstinacy he picked up the Screw. But the Screw was so small that the boy could scarcely hold him with the tips of his fingers.
'Indeed, you'll drop it!... Papa will be cross!...' continued the little girl in the utmost anxiety.
Suddenly they heard the creaking of Karl Ivánovich's boots in the next room, and he blew his nose as loud as if it were a trumpet. The boy started, and dropped the Screw from his fingers on to the floor.
'Aha! aha! There, you see! I told you so!' whispered the girl again.
'Hush!' answered her brother, also in a whisper, stooping down to look for the Screw. But it was too late; Karl Ivánovich came into the workshop, and in his presence the boy was afraid to show what he had done.
Our Screw, meanwhile, lay on the floor, and did not grieve over what had happened.
'It is all the same,' he thought,—'to be crushed under somebody's foot, or to go through a whole life such a feeble and useless creature as I am!'
Just at that moment Karl Ivánovich came into the workshop, puffing at his pipe. He was a thorough German, with a flat, red face, and an embroidered cap with a tassel. Although he had lived in Russia for about thirty years, and owed his good fortune to Russian people, yet he had not learnt Russian properly, and thought even that it was a merit not to know it. He was of the opinion that the Russians were mere cattle; and when he contrived to gain 50 per cent in selling some watch to a Russian, this was in his eyes one proof more how right he was to think contemptuously of the nation. He therefore always spoke German in his domestic life.
'Kinder, fort! fort!' said Karl Ivánovich sternly. But observing at once from the frightened faces of the children that something must be amiss, he frowned still more severely, and going up to the bench, began inspecting it closely.
'What mischief have you been up to here, eh?' asked the watchmaker.
The children hung their heads in silence.
Karl Ivánovich once more carefully examined his bench, and suddenly his attention was caught by the watch-glass in which he had laid the wee blue steel Screw.
'Where's the Screw? Who has taken the Screw?' shouted Karl Ivánovich at the top of his voice.
The little girl got frightened for her brother and began to cry bitterly; the boy remained silent.
'Well, are you going to speak or not?' cried the watchmaker, still louder.
'It's on the floor,' whispered the girl.
'That was you dropped it, I'll be bound!' said the watchmaker, shaking his finger before his little son's face. The boy still held his tongue, and only hung his head lower and lower.
'Oh, welch ein wilder Bube!' cried Karl Ivánovich in a fury. 'Do you understand what you've done? It was the only screw of that kind that I had left, and the new order has got delayed on the journey here. How am I to mend the chronometer from the telegraph station now, eh?'
'Papa, it was so tiny,' said the little girl through her tears; she wanted to say something in her brother's defence and did not know what plea to put forward.
'Oh, du dummes Ding!' cried the angry watchmaker. 'Do you suppose because the Screw is small it's of no consequence? Why, can't you see the value of it is just that it's so small; nothing else will go into the hole. Without it I can't screw the pieces together in the chronometer, and how long do you think it will go without being screwed? Can't you understand that, you little goose?'
Ah! with what joy our little Screw listened to this speech as he lay on the floor beside the bench. He was not ill-natured, and felt very sorry for the children when Karl Ivánovich scolded them so; but how could the little creature help rejoicing when his dearest wish was thus suddenly fulfilled? He had been grieving because he was so small, had been ashamed of his weakness, and had believed himself utterly useless. He had so longed to be useful—even as useful as any lump of metal that has not been made into anything; but he had thought himself incapable even of that.... And now it appeared that he, small as he was, could be as useful as a first-rate chronometer! Yes, for without him, the tiny Screw, the chronometer itself would not keep time properly.
The Screw was wild with joy; he positively choked with delight!
Soon, however, his rapture was changed into terrible anxiety. Karl Ivánovich made the children look for the lost Screw, called his assistant to look too, and finally, straddling his short legs apart, and leaning his red hands on his knees, stooped down himself with a magnifying-glass at his eye, and began carefully inspecting the floor. But all their searching was in vain: the whole four of them looked, crawled over the floor, felt about with their hands quite close to the Screw, and could not find him.
'Oh dear!' thought the poor little fellow, 'what if they don't find me after all? That would be terrible!'
It would indeed be terrible; after passing through such bitter moments, to be at the very point of reaching the utmost possible happiness, and then after all to miss it and be crushed under a dirty boot! He would have cried out, 'Here I am! here!' but did not know how to do that in human speech.
In his extremity the little Screw looked up at the mighty magician who ruled over all the clocks. As before, the magician was gravely turning his eyes from side to side, watching over his kingdom.
'Oh great, good magician! king of time! benefactor of men! surely thou wilt not let me perish here for no cause, when I too might be of use? Help me, oh help me, to be found!' entreated our wee friend.
The magician glanced benevolently down on the poor little Screw, and instantly raising his left hand to command attention, began striking on his bell with the hammer he held in his right; the cat at once began to mew.
A ray of sunshine fell through the window straight upon the magician. When he raised and dropped his hammer, the ray flashed on its smooth surface and was reflected from it right on to the Screw. The Screw glittered like a spark of fire, and Karl Ivánovich's little girl cried out joyfully, 'I've found it!'
Karl Ivánovich instantly picked up his recovered treasure with a pair of small pincers and laid him again in the watch-glass. Then he sat down at his bench and set to work at the telegraph chronometer. Presently came the turn of our Screw; the watchmaker picked him up again with the pincers, placed him in a hole in one part of the chronometer, and screwed him tight with a delicate little screwdriver.
On finishing his work Karl Ivánovich wound up the watch, held it to his ear and listened. It was ticking away merrily, and our Screw sat firmly in his place and held the pieces together as a conscientious screw should. Then the watchmaker hung up the chronometer in a glass case to be tested.
One morning, about a fortnight afterwards, the outer door of Karl Ivánovich's shop opened, and the director of the telegraph station came in.
'Good morning, Karl Ivánovich,' he said; 'what about my watch?'
'It's ready—quite ready.'
'And goes well?'
'Goes perfectly. There was just one screw wanting, and I've put it in. That was the whole matter.'
The telegraph director opened the inner lid of the watch and looked at our Screw; then he shut the lid again and put the chronometer into his waistcoat pocket. It ticked bravely, and the little blue steel Screw sat in his hole, saying to himself joyfully: 'And I, too, am of use!'
