In this article we will describe the story "The White Ship". A brief summary of this work will be presented there. The story was written in 1970 by Chingiz Aitmatov.
"The White Steamer" begins as follows ( summary). A boy and his grandfather lived on a forest cordon. There were three women here: the grandmother, the wife of the patrolman Orozkul, the main man at the cordon, the grandfather’s daughter - Aunt Bekey. There was also Seidakhmat’s wife, Aunt Bekey, a woman who was the most unhappy because she had no children. Orozkul drunkenly beats her for this. These are the main characters of the story written by Chingiz Aitmatov.
"White Ship" Grandfather Momun
Momun’s grandfather was nicknamed the efficient Momun. He received this nickname for his constant friendliness, as well as his willingness to serve. He knew how to work. And Orozkul, his son-in-law, although he was considered the boss, mostly traveled around visiting guests. Momun kept an apiary and looked after the cattle. Chingiz Aitmatov notes that he was always at work from morning to evening, all his life, but never learned to force himself to be respected.
Boy's dream
The boy did not remember either his mother or his father. He had never seen them, but knew that his father served as a sailor in Issyk-Kul, and his mother left for some distant city after a divorce.
The boy loved to climb the neighboring mountain and look at Issyk-Kul through his grandfather’s binoculars. Appeared on the lake in the late afternoon white steamer.
Beautiful, powerful, long, with pipes in a row. Aitmatov's story "The White Steamship" is named after the ship. The boy wanted to turn into a fish, with only his own on his thin neck, with protruding ears. He dreamed that he would swim to his father and tell him that he was his son. The boy wanted to tell him how his life was with Momun. This grandfather is the best, but he is not at all cunning, which is why everyone laughs at him. And Orozkul often shouts.
A tale told by Momun
The grandfather told his grandson a fairy tale in the evenings. The work “The White Steamer” continues with its description.
In ancient times, the Kyrgyz tribe lived on the banks of the Enesai River. The enemies attacked him and killed everyone, leaving only a girl and a boy. However, then the children also ended up in the hands of enemies. The Khan gave them to the Pockmarked Lame Old Woman and ordered them to end these Kirghiz. But when the Pockmarked Lame Old Woman had already brought the children to the bank of the Enesai River, the queen deer came out of the forest and asked to give the children to her. The old woman warned that these were human children who would kill her fawns when they grew up. After all, people don’t even feel sorry for each other, let alone animals. However, the mother deer nevertheless begged the old woman and brought the children to Issyk-Kul.
They got married when they grew up. The woman went into labor and was in pain. The man got scared and started calling the mother deer. Then an iridescent ringing was heard from a distance. The horned mother brought a baby's cradle on her horns - beshik. The silver bell on its bow was ringing. Immediately the woman gave birth. They named the first-born Bugubay, in honor of the deer. The Bugu family came from him.
Then a rich man died, and his children decided to install deer horns on the tomb. Since then there has been no mercy for the deer in the forests, and they are gone. The mountains are empty. When the mother deer left, she said that she would never return. This is how Aitmatov ends his description of the tale. "The White Steamer" continues with a story about further events at the forest cordon.
Orozkul works with Momun
Autumn has come again in the mountains. For Orozkul, along with the summer, the time for visits to herdsmen and shepherds passed away - the time had come to pay for the offerings. Together with Momun, they dragged two pine logs through the mountains, and therefore Orozkul was angry with the whole world. He wanted to settle down in a city where people are respected and where cultured people live. There you don’t have to carry logs afterwards because you received a gift. And the state farm is visited by an inspector and the police - suddenly they ask where the wood comes from. Anger boiled in Orozkul at this thought. He wanted to beat his wife, but the house was far away. In addition, the grandfather noticed the deer and almost came to tears, as if he had met his own brothers.
Quarrel between Orozkul and Momun
"The White Steamer", a brief summary of which we describe, continues with the quarrel between Orozkul and Momun. Orozkul finally quarreled with the old man when it was very close to the cordon. He kept asking for time off in order to pick up his grandson from school. It got to the point that he threw the stuck logs in the river and went after the boy. Orozkul hit him on the head several times, but it did not help - the old man broke free and left.
When the boy and his grandfather returned, they found out that Orozkul had beaten her. He said that he was firing his grandfather from his job. Bekey cursed her father, howled, and the grandmother itched that Orozkul needed to submit, ask for forgiveness from him, otherwise he would have nowhere to go in his old age.
The boy wanted to tell his grandfather that he met deer in the forest - they returned. But the old man had no time for that. The boy went back into the imaginary world and began to beg the mother deer to bring a cradle on the horns to Orozkulu and Bekey.
People came for the forest
Meanwhile, people arrived at the cordon behind the forest. While they were pulling out the log, grandfather Momun followed Orozkul like a devoted dog. The arrivals also noticed these, apparently, they were from the reserve, unafraid.
Momun kills the mother deer
In the evening the boy saw a cauldron boiling on a fire in the yard, from where a meat spirit was emanating. Grandfather stood by the fire. He was drunk. The boy had never seen him like this. One of the visitors, as well as a drunken Orozkul, shared a pile fresh meat squatting by the barn. The boy saw a maral head under the wall of the barn. He tried to run, but his legs did not obey him - he just stood and looked at the head of the one who had been the mother deer just yesterday.
The boy goes to the river
Everyone soon sat down at the table. The boy felt sick all the time. He heard people, drunk, sniffling, gnawing, slurping, devouring the mother deer. Saidakhmat later told how he forced her grandfather to shoot: he intimidated him that Orozkul would kick him out if he didn’t do this.
The boy decided to become a fish and never return to the mountains. He approached the river and stepped into the water.
This is how the story “The White Steamer” ends, a brief summary of which we have described. In 2013, this work was included in the list of “100 books for schoolchildren”, recommended for independent reading by the Ministry of Education and Science.
The boy and his grandfather lived on a forest cordon. There were three women at the cordon: grandmother, aunt Bekey - grandfather’s daughter and wife of the main man at the cordon, the patrolman Orozkul, and also the wife of the auxiliary worker Seidakhmat. Aunt Bekey is the most unfortunate person in the world, because she has no children, and that’s why Orozkul beats her when she’s drunk. Grandfather Momun was nicknamed the efficient Momun. He earned this nickname by his unfailing friendliness and willingness to always serve. He knew how to work. And his son-in-law, Orozkul, although he was listed as the boss, mostly traveled around visiting guests. Momun looked after the cattle and kept the apiary. I've been working all my life from morning to evening, but I haven't learned how to make myself respected.
The boy did not remember either his father or his mother. I've never seen them. But he knew: his father was a sailor in Issyk-Kul, and his mother left for a distant city after a divorce.
The boy loved to climb the neighboring mountain and look at Issyk-Kul through his grandfather’s binoculars. Towards evening a white steamer appeared on the lake. With pipes in a row, long, powerful, beautiful. The boy dreamed of turning into a fish, so that only his head would remain his own, on a thin neck, large, with protruding ears. He will swim and say to his father, the sailor: “Hello, dad, I am your son.” He will tell you, of course, how he lives with Momun. The best grandfather, but not at all cunning, and therefore everyone laughs at him. And Orozkul just screams!
In the evenings, the grandfather told his grandson a fairy tale.
In ancient times, a Kyrgyz tribe lived on the banks of the Enesai River. The tribe was attacked by enemies and killed everyone. Only a boy and a girl remained. But then the children also fell into the hands of enemies. The Khan gave them to the Pockmarked Lame Old Woman and ordered to put an end to the Kirghiz. But when the Pockmarked Lame Old Woman had already brought them to the shore of the Enesai, a mother deer came out of the forest and began to ask for the children. “People killed my fawns,” she said. “And my udder is full, asking for children!” The Pockmarked Lame Old Woman warned: “These are the children of men. They will grow up and kill your fawns. After all, people are not like animals, they don’t feel sorry for each other either.” But the mother deer begged the Pockmarked Lame Old Woman, and brought the children, now her own, to Issyk-Kul.
The children grew up and got married. The woman went into labor and was in pain. The man got scared and started calling the mother deer. And then an iridescent ringing was heard from afar. The horned mother deer brought a baby's cradle - beshik - on her horns. And on the bow of the beshik the silver bell rang. And immediately the woman gave birth. They named their firstborn in honor of the mother deer - Bugubay. The Bugu family came from him.
Then a rich man died, and his children decided to install deer horns on the tomb. Since then, there has been no mercy for deer in the Issyk-Kul forests. And there were no more deer. The mountains are empty. And when the Horned Mother Deer left, she said that she would never return.
Autumn has come again in the mountains. Along with the summer, the time for visiting shepherds and herdsmen was passing for Orozkul - the time had come to pay for the offerings. Together with Momun, they dragged two pine logs through the mountains, and that is why Orozkul was angry with the whole world. He should settle down in the city, they know how to respect people. Cultured people... And because you received a gift, you don’t have to carry logs later. But the police and the inspectorate visit the state farm - well, they’ll ask where the wood comes from and where. At this thought, anger boiled up in Orozkul towards everything and everyone. I wanted to beat my wife, but the house was far away. Then this grandfather saw the deer and almost came to tears, as if he had met his own brothers.
And when it was very close to the cordon, we finally quarreled with the old man: he kept asking his grandson to go and pick him up from school. It got so bad that he threw the stuck logs in the river and galloped off after the boy. It didn’t even help that Orozkul hit him on the head a couple of times - he pulled away, spat out the blood and left.
When the grandfather and the boy returned, they found out that Orozkul had beaten his wife and kicked him out of the house, and said that he was firing his grandfather from his job. Bekey howled, cursed her father, and the grandmother itched that she had to submit to Orozkul, ask for his forgiveness, otherwise where to go in her old age? Grandfather is in his hands...
The boy wanted to tell his grandfather that he saw deer in the forest, but they returned after all! - Yes, grandfather had no time for that. And then the boy again went into his imaginary world and began to beg the mother deer to bring Orozkul and Bekey a cradle on horns.
Meanwhile, people arrived at the cordon for the forest. And while they were pulling out the log and doing other things, grandfather Momun trotted after Orozkul, like a devoted dog. The visitors also saw deer - apparently the animals were not scared, they were from the reserve.
In the evening, the boy saw a cauldron boiling on a fire in the yard, from which a meaty spirit emanated. The grandfather stood by the fire and was drunk - the boy had never seen him like this. Drunk Orozkul and one of the visitors, squatting near the barn, shared a huge pile of fresh meat. And under the wall of the barn the boy saw a horned head. He wanted to run, but his legs wouldn’t obey him - he stood and looked at the disfigured head of the one who only yesterday had been the Horned Mother Deer.
Soon everyone was seated at the table. The boy felt sick all the time. He heard drunken people slurping, gnawing, sniffling, devouring the meat of the mother deer. And then Saidakhmat told how he forced his grandfather to shoot a deer: he intimidated him that otherwise Orozkul would kick him out.
And the boy decided that he would become a fish and never return to the mountains. He went down to the river. And stepped straight into the water...
We hope you enjoyed the summary of the story The White Steamer. We will be glad if you manage to read this story in its entirety.
Chingiz AITMATOVWHITE STEAMER(after the fairy tale)
He had two fairy tales. One of our own, which no one knew about. The other one is what my grandfather told me. Then there was not one left. This is what we're talking about.
That year he turned seven years old and was eighth.
First, a briefcase was purchased. A black leatherette briefcase with a shiny metal latch that slides under the bracket. With a patch pocket for small items. In a word, an extraordinary, ordinary school bag. This is probably where it all started.
Grandfather bought it at a visiting auto shop. The truck shop, driving around the cattle breeders in the mountains with goods, sometimes dropped in on them at the forest cordon, in the San-Tash Pad.
From here, from the cordon, a protected mountain forest rose through gorges and slopes to the upper reaches. There are only three families at the cordon. But still, from time to time, the auto shop also visited the foresters.
The only boy in all three yards, he was always the first to notice the auto shop.
- He's coming! - he shouted, running to the doors and windows. - The store car is coming!
The wheeled road made its way here from the coast of Issyk-Kul, all the time along the gorge, along the river bank, all the time over rocks and potholes. It was not very easy to drive on such a road. Having reached Karaulnaya Mountain, she climbed from the bottom of the gorge onto a slope and from there descended for a long time along a steep and bare slope to the foresters’ yards. Karaulnaya Mountain is very close - in the summer, almost every day the boy ran there to look at the lake with binoculars. And there, on the road, everything is always clearly visible - on foot, on horseback, and, of course, the car.
That time - and it happened in a hot summer - the boy was swimming in his dam and from here he saw a car gathering dust along the slope. The dam was on the edge of the river shallows, on pebbles. It was built by my grandfather from stones. If it weren’t for this dam, who knows, maybe the boy would not have been alive long ago. And, as the grandmother said, the river would have washed his bones long ago and carried them straight to Issyk-Kul, and fish and all kinds of water creatures would have looked at them there. And no one would look for him and kill himself for him - because there is no point in getting into the water and because it doesn’t hurt anyone who needs him. So far this has not happened. But if it had happened, who knows, grandma might not have really rushed to save her. He would still be her family, otherwise, she says, he’s a stranger. And a stranger is always a stranger, no matter how much you feed him, no matter how much you follow him. Stranger... What if he doesn't want to be a stranger? And why exactly should he be considered a stranger? Maybe not he, but the grandmother herself is a stranger?
But more about that later, and about Grandfather’s dam later too...
So, then he saw a truck shop, it was going down the mountain, and dust swirled behind it along the road. And he was so happy, he knew for sure that a briefcase would be bought for him. He immediately jumped out of the water, quickly pulled his pants over his skinny hips and, still wet and blue in the face—the water in the river was cold—ran along the path to the yard to be the first to announce the arrival of the truck shop.
The boy ran quickly, jumping over bushes and running around boulders, if he was not strong enough to jump over them, and did not linger anywhere for a second - neither near the tall grasses, nor near the stones, although he knew that they were not at all simple. They could be offended and even trip up. “The store car has arrived. I’ll come later,” he said as he walked to the “Lying Camel” - that’s what he called the red, humpbacked granite, chest-deep in the ground. Usually the boy did not pass by without patting his "Camel" on the hump. He clapped him in a masterly manner, like the grandfather of his bob-tailed gelding - so casually, casually; You, they say, wait, and I’ll be away here on business. He had a boulder called “Saddle” - half white, half black, a piebald stone with a saddle where you could sit astride a horse. There was also a stone “Wolf” - very similar to a wolf, brown, with gray hair, with a powerful scruff and a heavy forehead. He crawled towards it and took aim. But my favorite stone is “Tank”, an indestructible boulder right next to the river on a washed-out bank. Just wait, the “Tank” will rush from the shore and go, and the river will rage, boil with white breakers. That's how tanks go in movies: from the shore into the water - and off they go... The boy rarely saw films and therefore firmly remembered what he saw. The grandfather sometimes took his grandson to the movies at the state farm breeding farm in the neighboring tract behind the mountain. That’s why the “Tank” appeared on the bank, always ready to rush across the river. There were also others - “harmful” or “good” stones, and even “cunning” and “stupid”.
Among the plants there are also “favorite”, “brave”, “fearful”, “evil” and all sorts of others. The prickly thistle, for example, is the main enemy. The boy fought with him dozens of times a day. But there was no end in sight to this war - the thistle grew and multiplied. But field bindweeds, although they are also weeds, are the smartest and most cheerful flowers. They greet the sun best in the morning. Other herbs don’t understand anything - whether it’s morning or evening, they don’t care. And the bindweeds, just warming the rays, open their eyes and laugh. First one eye, then the second, and then one after another all the swirls of flowers bloom on the bindweed. White, light blue, lilac, different... And if you sit next to them very quietly, it seems that they, having woken up, are inaudibly whispering about something. Ants know this too. In the morning they run through the bindweed, squint in the sun and listen to what the flowers are talking about among themselves. Maybe dreams tell stories?
During the day, usually at noon, the boy liked to climb into the thickets of stem-like shiraljins. Shiraljins are tall, have no flowers, but are fragrant, they grow in islands, gather in heaps, not allowing other herbs to come close. Shiraljins are true friends. Especially if there is some kind of offense and you want to cry so that no one sees, it is best to hide in shiraljins. They smell like Pine forest at the edge. Hot and quiet in shiraljins. And most importantly, they do not obscure the sky. You need to lie on your back and look at the sky. At first, it’s almost impossible to discern anything through the tears. And then the clouds will come and do whatever you imagine above. The clouds know that you are not feeling very well, that you want to go somewhere, go fly away, so that no one finds you and then everyone sighs and aahs - the boy has disappeared, they say, where will we find him now?.. And so that this does not happen It happens that you don’t disappear anywhere, that you lie quietly and admire the clouds, the clouds will turn into whatever you want. The same clouds produce a variety of different things. You just need to be able to recognize what the clouds represent.
But the Shiraljins are quiet, and they do not obscure the sky. Here they are, the Shiraljins, smelling of hot pine trees...
And he knew various other things about herbs. He treated the silver feather grasses that grew in the floodplain meadow condescendingly. They are eccentrics - farriers! Windy heads. Eid soft, silky panicles cannot live without wind. They just wait - wherever it blows, that’s where they go. And everyone bows as one, the whole meadow, as if on command. And if it rains or a thunderstorm begins, the feather grasses don’t know where to hide. They rush about, fall, press themselves to the ground. If they had legs, they would probably run away wherever they look... But they are pretending. The storm will subside, and again the frivolous feather grass will flutter in the wind - wherever the wind goes, so will they...
Alone, without friends, the boy lived in the circle of those simple things that surrounded him, and only a car shop could make him forget about everything and rush headlong towards it. What can I say, a mobile shop is not like stones or some kind of grass. What is there, in the drive-thru shop!
When the boy reached the house, the truck was already driving up to the yard, behind the houses. The houses on the cordon faced the river, the outbuilding turned into a gentle slope straight to the shore, and on the other side of the river, immediately from the washed-out ravine, the forest climbed steeply through the mountains, so that there was only one approach to the cordon - behind the houses. If the boy had not arrived on time, no one would have known that the auto shop was already here.
There were no men at that hour; everyone had left in the morning. Women did household chores. But then he screamed shrilly, running up to the open doors:
– I’ve arrived! The store car has arrived! The women were alarmed. They rushed to look for the hidden money. And they jumped out, overtaking one another. Grandma praised him too:
- He’s such a big-eyed guy!
The boy felt flattered, as if he had brought the auto shop himself. He was happy because he brought them this news, because he rushed into the backyard with them, because he jostled with them at the open door of the van. But here the women immediately forgot about him. They had no time for him. The goods were different - my eyes ran wild. There were only three women: his grandmother, Aunt Bekey - his mother’s sister, the wife of the most important person at the cordon, the patrolman Orozkul - and the wife of the auxiliary worker Seidakhmat - young Guljamal with her little girl in her arms. Only three women. But they fussed so much, they sorted and stirred up the goods so much that the seller of the car shop had to demand that they keep the line and not chatter all at once.
However, his words did not have much effect on the women. At first they grabbed everything, then they began to choose, then return what they had taken. They put it off, tried it on, argued, doubted, asked dozens of times about the same thing. They didn’t like one thing, another was expensive, the third had the wrong color... The boy stood aside. He got bored. The expectation of something extraordinary disappeared, the joy that he experienced when he saw the auto shop on the mountain disappeared. The auto shop suddenly turned into an ordinary car filled with a bunch of various rubbish.
Chingiz AITMATOV
WHITE STEAMER
He had two fairy tales. One of our own, which no one knew about. The other one is what my grandfather told me. Then there was not one left. This is what we're talking about.
That year he turned seven years old and was eighth.
First, a briefcase was purchased. A black leatherette briefcase with a shiny metal clasp that slides under the bracket. With a patch pocket for small items. In a word, an extraordinary, ordinary school bag. This is probably where it all started.
Grandfather bought it at a visiting auto shop. The truck shop, driving around with goods from cattle breeders in the mountains, sometimes dropped in on them at the forest cordon, in the San-Tash pad.
From here, from the cordon, a protected mountain forest rose through gorges and slopes to the upper reaches. There are only three families at the cordon. But still, from time to time, the auto shop also visited the foresters.
The only boy in all three yards, he was always the first to notice the auto shop.
- He's coming! - he shouted, running to the doors and windows. - The store's car is coming!
The wheeled road made its way here from the coast of Issyk-Kul, all the time along a gorge, along the river bank, all the time over rocks and potholes. It was not very easy to drive on such a road. Having reached Karaulnaya Mountain, she climbed from the bottom of the gorge onto a slope and from there descended for a long time along a steep and bare slope to the foresters’ yards. Karaulnaya Mountain is very close - in the summer, almost every day the boy ran there to look at the lake with binoculars. And there, on the road, everything is always clearly visible - on foot, on horseback, and, of course, the car.
That time - and it happened in a hot summer - the boy was swimming in his dam and from here he saw a car gathering dust along the slope. The dam was on the edge of the river shallows, on pebbles. It was built by my grandfather from stones. If it weren’t for this dam, who knows, maybe the boy would not have been alive long ago. And, as the grandmother said, the river would have washed his bones long ago and carried them straight to Issyk-Kul, and fish and all kinds of water creatures would have looked at them there. And no one would look for him and kill himself for him - because there is no point in getting into the water and because it doesn’t hurt anyone who needs him. So far this has not happened. But if it had happened, who knows, grandma might not have really rushed to save her. He would still be her family, otherwise, she says, he’s a stranger. And a stranger is always a stranger, no matter how much you feed him, no matter how much you follow him. Stranger... What if he doesn't want to be a stranger? And why exactly should he be considered a stranger? Maybe not he, but the grandmother herself is a stranger?
But more about that later, and about Grandfather’s dam later too...
So, then he saw a truck shop, it was going down the mountain, and dust swirled behind it along the road. And he was so happy, he knew for sure that a briefcase would be bought for him. He immediately jumped out of the water, quickly pulled his pants over his skinny hips and, still wet and blue in the face—the water in the river was cold—ran along the path to the yard to be the first to announce the arrival of the truck shop.
The boy ran quickly, jumping over bushes and running around boulders, if he was not strong enough to jump over them, and did not linger anywhere for a second - neither near the tall grasses, nor near the stones, although he knew that they were not at all simple. They could be offended and even trip up. “The car-shop has arrived. I’ll come later,” he said as he walked to the “Lying Camel” - that’s what he called the red humpbacked granite, chest-deep in the ground. Usually the boy did not pass by without patting his "Camel" on the hump. He clapped him in a masterly manner, like the grandfather of his bob-tailed gelding - so casually, casually; You, they say, wait, and I’ll be away here on business. He had a boulder called “Saddle” - half white, half black, a piebald stone with a saddle where you could sit astride a horse. There was also a stone “Wolf” - very similar to a wolf, brown, with gray hair, with a powerful scruff and a heavy forehead. He crawled towards it and took aim. But my favorite stone is “Tank”, an indestructible boulder right next to the river on a washed-out bank. Just wait, the “Tank” will rush from the shore and go, and the river will rage, boil with white breakers. That's how tanks go in movies: from the shore into the water - and off they go... The boy rarely saw films and therefore firmly remembered what he saw. The grandfather sometimes took his grandson to the movies at the state farm breeding farm in the neighboring tract behind the mountain. That’s why the “Tank” appeared on the bank, always ready to rush across the river. There were also others - “harmful” or “good” stones, and even “cunning” and “stupid”.
Among the plants there are also “favorite”, “brave”, “fearful”, “evil” and all sorts of others. The prickly thistle, for example, is the main enemy. The boy fought with him dozens of times a day. But there was no end in sight to this war - the thistle grew and multiplied. But field bindweeds, although they are also weeds, are the smartest and most cheerful flowers. They greet the sun best in the morning. Other herbs don’t understand anything - whether it’s morning or evening, they don’t care. And the bindweeds, just warming the rays, open their eyes and laugh. First one eye, then the second, and then one after another all the swirls of flowers bloom on the bindweed. White, light blue, lilac, different... And if you sit next to them very quietly, it seems that they, having woken up, are inaudibly whispering about something. Ants know this too. In the morning they run through the bindweed, squint in the sun and listen to what the flowers are talking about among themselves. Maybe dreams tell stories?
During the day, usually at noon, the boy liked to climb into the thickets of stem-like shiraljins. Shiraljins are tall, have no flowers, but are fragrant, they grow in islands, gather in heaps, not allowing other herbs to come close. Shiraljins are true friends. Especially if there is some kind of offense and you want to cry so that no one sees, it is best to hide in shiraljins. They smell like a pine forest at the edge. Hot and quiet in shiraljins. And most importantly, they do not obscure the sky. You need to lie on your back and look at the sky. At first, it’s almost impossible to discern anything through the tears. And then the clouds will come and do whatever you imagine above. The clouds know that you are not feeling very well, that you want to go somewhere, go fly away, so that no one will find you and then everyone will sigh and gasp - the boy has disappeared, where will we find him now?.. And so that this does not happen, so that you don’t disappear anywhere, so that you lie quietly and admire the clouds, the clouds will turn into whatever you want. The same clouds produce a variety of different things. You just need to be able to recognize what the clouds represent.
But the Shiraljins are quiet, and they do not obscure the sky. Here they are, the Shiraljins, smelling of hot pine trees...
And he knew various other things about herbs. He treated the silver feather grasses that grew in the floodplain meadow condescendingly. They are eccentrics - farriers! Windy heads. Eid soft, silky panicles cannot live without wind. They just wait - wherever it blows, that’s where they go. And everyone bows as one, the whole meadow, as if on command. And if it rains or a thunderstorm begins, the feather grasses don’t know where to hide. They rush about, fall, press themselves to the ground. If they had legs, they would probably run away wherever they look... But they are pretending. The storm will subside, and again the frivolous feather grass will flutter in the wind - wherever the wind goes, so will they...
Alone, without friends, the boy lived in the circle of those simple things that surrounded him, and only a car shop could make him forget about everything and rush headlong towards it. What can I say, a mobile shop is not like stones or some kind of grass. What is there, in the drive-thru shop!
When the boy reached the house, the truck was already driving up to the yard, behind the houses. The houses on the cordon faced the river, the outbuilding turned into a gentle slope straight to the shore, and on the other side of the river, immediately from the washed-out ravine, the forest climbed steeply through the mountains, so that there was only one approach to the cordon - behind the houses. If the boy had not arrived on time, no one would have known that the auto shop was already here.
There were no men at that hour; everyone had left in the morning. Women did household chores. But then he screamed shrilly, running up to the open doors:
– I’ve arrived! The store car has arrived! The women were alarmed. They rushed to look for the hidden money. And they jumped out, overtaking one another. Grandma praised him too:
- He’s such a big-eyed guy!
The boy felt flattered, as if he had brought the auto shop himself. He was happy because he brought them this news, because he rushed into the backyard with them, because he jostled with them at the open door of the van. But here the women immediately forgot about him. They had no time for him. The goods were different - my eyes ran wild. There were only three women: his grandmother, Aunt Bekey - his mother’s sister, the wife of the most important person at the cordon, the patrolman Orozkul - and the wife of the auxiliary worker Seidakhmat - young Guljamal with her little girl in her arms. Only three women. But they fussed so much, they sorted and stirred up the goods so much that the seller of the car shop had to demand that they keep the line and not chatter all at once.
However, his words did not have much effect on the women. At first they grabbed everything, then they began to choose, then return what they had taken. They put it off, tried it on, argued, doubted, asked dozens of times about the same thing. They didn’t like one thing, another was expensive, the third had the wrong color... The boy stood aside. He got bored. The expectation of something extraordinary disappeared, the joy that he experienced when he saw the auto shop on the mountain disappeared. The auto shop suddenly turned into an ordinary car, filled with a bunch of different rubbish.
The seller frowned: it was not clear that these women were going to buy anything. Why did he come here, so far away, through the mountains?
That's how it learned. The women began to retreat, their ardor moderated, they even seemed tired. For some reason they began to make excuses - either to each other, or to the seller. The grandmother was the first to complain that there was no money. If you don’t have money in your hands, you can’t take the goods. Aunt Bekey did not dare to make a large purchase without her husband. Aunt Bekey is the most unfortunate among all women in the world, because she has no children, and that’s why Orozkul beats her when she’s drunk, and that’s why grandfather suffers, because Aunt Bekey is his grandfather’s daughter. Aunt Bekey took some small items and two bottles of vodka. And in vain, and in vain - it will be worse for herself. Grandma couldn’t resist:
- Why are you calling trouble on your own head? – she hissed so that the seller would not hear her.
“I know it myself,” Aunt Bekey snapped curtly.
“What a fool,” the grandmother whispered even more quietly, but with gloating. If it weren’t for the salesman, how would she now scold Aunt Bekey. Wow, they're fighting!..
Young Guljamal came to the rescue. She began to explain to the seller that her Seidakhmat was going to the city soon, she would need money for the city, so she could not fork out.
So they hung out near the auto shop, bought goods “for pennies,” as the seller said, and went home. Well, is this trade? Having spat after the departing women, the seller began to collect the scattered goods in order to get behind the wheel and drive away. Then he noticed the boy.
-What are you doing, big-eared? - he asked. The boy had protruding ears, a thin neck and a large, round head. - Do you want to buy it? So hurry up, otherwise I'll close it. Do you have money?
The seller asked like this, simply because he had nothing better to do, but the boy answered respectfully:
“No, uncle, there is no money,” and shook his head.
“I think there is,” the seller drawled with feigned disbelief. “You’re all rich here, you’re just pretending to be poor.” What do you have in your pocket, isn’t it money?
“No, uncle,” the boy answered sincerely and seriously as before, and turned out his tattered pocket. (The second pocket was tightly sewn.)
- So, your money woke up. Look where you ran. You will find it.
They were silent.
-Whose will you be? – the seller began to ask again. - Old Momun, or what?
The boy nodded in response.
– Are you his grandson?
- Yes. – The boy nodded again.
-Where is mother?
The boy didn't say anything. He didn't want to talk about it.
“She doesn’t give any news about herself at all, your mother.” You don’t know yourself, do you?
- Don't know.
- And the father? Don't you know either?
The boy was silent.
- Why don’t you know anything, friend? – the seller playfully reproached him. - Well, okay, if so. “Here,” he took out a handful of sweets. - And be healthy.
The boy was shy.
- Take it, take it. Don't delay. It's time for me to go. The boy put the candy in his pocket and was about to run after the car to escort the auto shop onto the road. He called Baltek, a terribly lazy, shaggy dog. Orozkul kept threatening to shoot him - why, they say, keep such a dog. Yes, my grandfather kept begging me to wait: I need to get a shepherd dog, and take Baltek somewhere and leave him. Baltek didn’t care about anything - the well-fed one slept, the hungry one was always sucking up to someone, to his own people and strangers indiscriminately, as long as they threw something at him. This is what he was like, the dog Baltek. But sometimes, out of boredom, I ran after cars. True, it’s not far. It will just accelerate, then suddenly turn around and trott off home. Unreliable dog. But still, running with a dog is a hundred times better than running without a dog. Whatever it is, it’s still a dog...
Slowly, so that the seller would not see, the boy tossed Baltek one piece of candy. “Look,” he warned the dog. “We’ll run for a long time.” Baltek squealed, wagged his tail, and waited some more. But the boy did not dare to throw another candy. You can offend a person, but he didn’t give a whole handful for the dog.
And just then the grandfather appeared. The old man went to the apiary, but from the apiary you cannot see what is happening behind the houses. And it turned out that the grandfather arrived on time, the auto shop had not yet left. Happening. Otherwise, the grandson would not have had a briefcase. The boy was lucky that day.
Plot
The basis of the story unfolds around a boy living among strangers, where his only relative (both by blood and in spirit) is his grandfather. His parents left him - his father, according to his grandfather, was a sailor, and his mother went to a distant city.
All his life the boy had a dream of seeing his father sailing on the White Steamship:
He had two fairy tales. One of our own, which no one knew about. The other one is what my grandfather told me. Then there was not one left. This is what we're talking about
In the story, the grandfather tells many legends and tales about his region. The end of the story is tragic - the boy loses faith in people and sails towards the "White Steamer" - his dreams:
But you floated away. Did you know that you will never turn into a fish? That you won’t sail to Issyk-Kul, you won’t see a white ship and you won’t tell it: “Hello, white ship, it’s me!” ... And the fact is that a child’s conscience in a person is like an embryo in a grain; without an embryo, the grain does not germinate. And no matter what awaits us in the world, the truth will remain forever, as long as people are born and die... Saying goodbye to you, I repeat your words, boy: “Hello, white ship, it’s me!”
Criticism and historical assessments of the story
The story “The White Steamship” became widely known among readers, mainly for its exaltation of humanism and literary merits
All works of Ch. Aitmatov, and the story “The White Steamship” in particular, are characterized by the theme of good and evil as the central theme of the writer’s work
The main idea is tragic fate a child being among hostile people, the “betrayal” of his grandfather, and the destruction of his dreams (“fairy tales”):
Living in this complex reality main character story, a seven-year-old boy divides his world into two dimensions: real world And ancient world, fantasy world fairy tales and legends, goodness and justice, which, as it were, compensates for the injustices of reality
Notes
Literature
- Ch. Aitmatov. White ship. L.: 1981
- Prose of Chingiz Aitmatov in the magazine context of "New World"
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See what “White Steamer” is in other dictionaries:
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