Chelkash laughed merrily.
"All right, we must have our jokes, I suppose. Let us go ashore. Come, look sharp!"
"I'm ready."
And again they were in the skiff, Chelkash at the helm, Gabriel with the oars. Above them the grey sky was covered by a uniform carpet of clouds, and the turbid green sea sported with their skiff, noisily tossing it up and down on the still tiny billows, and sportively casting bright saline jets of watertight into it. Far away along the prow of the skiff a yellow strip of sandy shore was visible, and far away behind the stern stretched the free, sportive sea, all broken up by the hurrying heads of waves adorned here and there with fringes of white sparkling foam. There, too, far away, many vessels were visible, rocking on the bosom of the sea; far away to the left was a whole forest of masts, and the white masses of the houses of the town. From thence a dull murmur flitted along the sea, thunderous, and at the same time blending with the splashing of the waves into a good and sonorous music.... And over everything was cast a fine web of ashen vapour, separating the various objects from each other.
"Ah, we shall have a nice time of it this evening," and Chelkash jerked his head towards the sea.
"A storm, eh?" inquired Gabriel, ploughing hard among the waves with his oars. He was already wet from head to foot from the scud carried across the sea by the wind.
Chelkash grunted assent.
Gabriel looked at him searchingly.
"How much did they give you?" he asked at last, perceiving that Chelkash was not inclined to begin the conversation.
"Look there," said Chelkash, extending towards Gabriel a small pouch which he had taken from his pocket.