During this time a woman selling cakes came up. She was a brisk, lively person, and it was with her that the five kopecks given by the townsman were spent.
The young fellow who sold white bread in the convict prison took two dozen of her cakes, and had a long discussion with the woman in order to get a reduction in price. She would not, however, agree to his terms.
At last the non-commissioned officer appointed to superintend the work came up with a cane in his hand.
“What are you sitting down for? Begin at once.”
“Give us our tasks, Ivan Matveitch,” said one of the “foremen” among us, as he slowly got up.
“What more do you want? Take out the barque, that is your task.”
Then ultimately the convicts got up and went to the river, but very slowly. Different “directors” appeared, “directors,” at least, in words. The barque was not to be broken up anyhow. The latitudinal and longitudinal beams were to be preserved, and this was not an easy thing to manage.
“Draw this beam out, that is the first thing to do,” cried a convict who was neither a director nor a foreman, but a simple workman. This man, very quiet and a little stupid, had not previously spoken. He now bent down, took hold of a heavy beam with both hands, and waited for some one to help him. No one, however, seemed inclined to do so.
“Not you, indeed, you will never manage it; not even your grandfather, the bear, could do it,” muttered some one between his teeth.