Ο ΒΙΟΠΑΛΑΙΣΤΗΣ
Διήγημα από τη συλλογή "Τα λόγια της πλώρης"
Λόγια της πλώρης - Βικιπαίδεια
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Ακούστε το κείμενο, διαβάστε το κείμενο, δείτε οπτικοποιημένο το κείμενο... Σε μορφή ηχοβιβλίου ή καλύτερα βιντεοπαρουσίασης η εργασία αυτή έχει δυνατότητες ήχου και εικόνας... Επιπλέον δυνατότητα αυτή, να πατήστε τώρα το ειδικό σημείο με την ένδειξη "CC" που είναι κάτω δεξιά στην οθόνη προβολής για να δείτε στην οθόνη σε απόλυτο συγχρονισμό με την αφήγηση το εκφωνούμενο κείμενο. Από εκεί προσαρμόζετε και το μέγεθος των γραμμάτων για άνετη και ξεκούραστη παρακολούθηση...O Aνδρέας Kαρκαβίτσας (1865-1922), κύριος εκπρόσωπος του ηθογραφικού διηγήματος, μετά τον Παπαδιαμάντη, γεννήθηκε στα Λεχαινά Hλείας. Στην Αθήνα σχετίστηκε με τον Κωστή Παλαμά, τον Κωνσταντίνο Χατζόπουλο και τον Γρηγόριο Ξενόπουλο. Η προκήρυξη του διαγωνισμού διηγήματος της "Εστίας" τον ώθησε στο χώρο της ηθογραφίας και ταξίδεψε σε χωριά της Ρούμελης για να συλλέξει λαογραφικά και ιστορικά στοιχεία τα οποία χρησιμοποίησε στα πρώτα έργα του. Το 1889 στρατεύτηκε και κατά τη διάρκεια της θητείας του στο Μεσολόγγι γνώρισε τις άθλιες συνθήκες ζωής της ελληνικής υπαίθρου. Τις εντυπώσεις του κατέγραψε σε μια σειρά οδοιπορικών σημειώσεων, που αξιοποίησε στη νουβέλα του "Ο ζητιάνος" το 1897. Υπηρέτησε επίσης ως έφεδρος δόκιμος γιατρός και το 1891 μετά τη λήξη της στρατιωτικής του θητείας διορίστηκε υγειονομικός γιατρός στο ατμόπλοιο "Αθήναι", με το οποίο ταξίδεψε στη Μεσόγειο, τη Μαύρη Θάλασσα, τα παράλια της Μικράς Ασίας και τον Ελλήσποντο. Οι εμπειρίες του από την περίοδο αυτή της ζωής του περιέχονται στο ταξιδιωτικό ημερολόγιο "Σ` Ανατολή και Δύση" και αξιοποιήθηκαν στη συλλογή διηγημάτων "Λόγια της πλώρης" (1899). Από τον Αύγουστο του 1896 και ως το 1921 υπήρξε μόνιμος αξιωματικός του ελληνικού στρατού φθάνοντας ως το βαθμό του γενικού αρχίατρου. Από τη θέση αυτή συνέχισε να ταξιδεύει με συνεχείς μεταθέσεις που επιδίωξε ο ίδιος (την έντονη αυτή επιθυμία του για τα ταξίδια ονόμαζε ο ίδιος "αειφυγία"). Υπήρξε μέλος της Εθνικής Εταιρίας που προωθούσε τη Μεγάλη Ιδέα και η ήττα του 1897 στάθηκε για τον Καρκαβίτσα πολύ μεγάλη απογοήτευση. Μέλος του Στρατιωτικού Συνδέσμου το 1909, συμμετείχε στο κίνημα στο Γουδί, στράφηκε όμως στη συνέχεια εναντίον του Βενιζέλου. Πήρε μέρος στους Βαλκανικούς πολέμους ως στρατιωτικός γιατρός και το 1916 αντιτάχτηκε στο κίνημα Εθνικής Αμύνης με αποτέλεσμα να τεθεί σε περιορισμό και να εξοριστεί στη συνέχεια στη Μυτιλήνη. Στο στράτευμα επανήλθε το 1920 και αποστρατεύτηκε δυο χρόνια αργότερα με δική του αίτηση. Οι κακουχίες της εξορίας συνέβαλαν στον κλονισμό της υγείας του και το 1922 πέθανε από φυματίωση του λάρυγγα. Σύντροφός του στα τελευταία χρόνια της ζωής του στάθηκε η Δέσποινα Σωτηρίου.
Ο ΒΙΟΠΑΛΑΙΣΤΗΣ ΣΤΑ ΑΓΓΛΙΚΑ
THE DECK BOY
Andreas Karkavitsas - Wikipedia
Translated by Vassilis C. Militsis
“Captain Stamati, I think that topsail doesn’t seem very strong to me.”
“You’re
right, Captain Vassili; the foresail needs changing, too. If only I
could sail by Cavo d’ Oro without sustaining some damage or other.
Sometimes the wind will tear off the jib, sometimes it will cut clear
a boom like a leek; and sometimes it will blow off the lateen. Last
time I was weathering the cape, the topsail came off its casing.”
“It’s
a really nasty cape, damn it!”
Both
of us were sitting in the poop deck on the Saint
Nicholas
relishing the mastic rum from Chios and enjoying at the same time our
pipes impatiently anticipating our meal. Our vessels, my brig the
Taxiarchis
and Captain Tragoudas’ barquentine were moored there in boring dead
calm, not being able to budge.
But
we were not the only ones. Barques, two-and-three masted schooners,
brigs, clippers, merchantmen, were all staying put against the Troad
shoreline. There were about thirty full rigged ships, each to sail to
her destination; but in vain! Not a feather was moving in the wind.
Their bowsprits pointed at the west, as though they were expecting a
fearful apparition to emerge out of the foundations of heaven.
The
sea below, smooth, looked like gold-blue porridge. In some places it
was ink-spotted by the shadow of a passing cloud.
Fringed
halos, long, crystal-smooth, striated furrows and scaly shapes
signaled the approximated directions of water currents and the
spiritless blow of the winds. And all around you could see the tiny
sails and the tinier skippers of a crowd of sailing boats wandering
around the unerring signs of the sea calm.
The
sky, above, ashy blue steamed under the beating sun. The undulating
plains of Troad slanted down as far as the sea from the foot of Mount
Ide. Hamlets through the lush vegetation could be seen here and there
in the highlands; the plowed slopes and dells loomed purple;
blue-green mist settled upon the olive orchards and the holly
forests. Life wove its fabric now, meek and desirable, without the
din of war and sheen of chariots. Tenedos, nearby, seared and russet,
seemed to have sprouted from the waves; the torn sails of its
windmills appeared to beg the wind for charity; the vines were eager
to yield their cool juice. And down on the dusky Karababa headland an
enormous shadow had fallen upon it, as though it was Achilles’
shadow that sought the blood of a princess as a sacrifice on his
grave. [See
If
sails were no use, oars came in handy. The most impatient captains
employed their longboats to tow their vessels. Others took to paying
visits. Someone went to pay his regards to a brother, a father, a
relative, a friend or fellow townsman. Many had to settle old
accounts; others had to conclude in-law relations, others again to
talk about family affairs. Goddess Sea is unpredictable in her
vagaries; she separates people for years and then reunites them in a
moment. You can never handle the weather: when it favors you, you run
along with it willy-nilly. You cannot wield your own will. When you
find it idle and dormant, you can’t help waiting.
I
also paid several visits as I had my own accounts to settle. As I was
coming back to my own brig one morning, I suddenly caught sight of
Captain Tragoudas’ the Saint
Nicholas.
“Fancy,” I thought to myself; “long time, no see! I haven’t
seen my friend for ages. It’s fifteen whole years since he embarked
from our island and met a succulent widow in Antalya.”
It
was rumored that he had prospered with the widow as she was filthy
rich. He had his barquentine built and worked on his own. He owned
houses, shops, restaurants, storehouses; a proper magnate.
I
jumped on the gangplank and clambered upon the deck. The meeting was
touching: “Oh, what a pleasant surprise! Welcome aboard!” We
kissed smack,
smack
in tears. The tears were followed by pipe smoking and mastic rum
until our meal was ready.
“You
know,” Captain Tragoudas says to me; “one of my crew is also
Manolios, my nephew, Zafirenia’s child!”
“Really!
Where’s he now?”
I
had known Manolios well. He was a strong, hardworking child with a
heart of gold. He used to work on my brig for a long time and had no
problems with him. A glance of mine was a command for him; a word
from me was his job. He was one of the star-crossed of life. From his
very early tender years he had to come up against a host of
vicissitudes. He had to affront the ogress of toil, the iron-hard
necessities, and the murky river of his parental sin. His father,
Captain Mathios, had been an able ship-owner on our island, but he
became infatuated with a woman from Kontoskali [Constantinople]. It
would not have been so bad if it was only for his infatuation: he
deprive his children of their bread. He left behind his wife, four
girls and Manolios, still a little kid, and went to live with his
mistress. No letter, no money did he send home. His sweetheart was an
insatiate, greedy whirlpool. After she had sucked him clean of his
ship and everything, she spat him out, destitute and crippled. He
returned to his home island; he found the house had been sold; his
daughters had been slaving for others and Manolios had gone to sea as
a deck boy. The captain wanted to work to pay out his follies, i.e.
the harm he had done to his family, but it was too late. What of
drinking and his former abuses he was incapable of lifting even a
feather. He was taken in by his daughters and was looked after until
his death.
However,
Manolios did not take after his father. He took, body and soul, to
work and thriftiness. He cared for no women, taverns, gambling or
brawls. He never deviated from his goal. Thus he managed to marry off
the three of his sisters to the best families.
“Hey,
Manolio,” I told him as soon as I saw him; “Now that you’ve got
rid of your burden, it’s high time you found yourself a wife, too.”
“Who,
me?” he replied with a rueful smile. “I’m already married to
four women.”
“You
mean your sisters, don’t you? Thank God, you’ve married them off.
There’s still one left, Roussa, who is also engaged. You’ll save
some more money for her, too, and then you’ll think of getting
married yourself.”
“I’ve
already saved for her, too; I’ve collected enough and sent it to
her. Two days ago I got a letter telling me that her wedding took
place on the fifteenth of March. They drank to my happiness; to my
own happiness!”
He
uttered these words in such a mocking manner that I got goose flesh.
You thought that one had wished him the moon and the stars.
“Why
not,” I told him; “now it’s your turn.”
“My
turn for a long vayage,” he replied in his wonted bitter smile.
“Voyage!
Oh, the little buster!” I addressed Captain Tragoudas. “I see
he’s already marked her. Where is she? Over there or down here?”
He
did not point either at the Aegean or the Black Sea.
“Down
there,” he pointed downwards.
I
did not suspect anything bad and began to tease him. The mastic rum
whetted my appetite and I could smell the roasted meat in the galley,
where our divine meal was being cooked. And I was not the only one
who had a bear hunger; it was also the whole crew. It is inevitable:
the sailor is not cut out for leisure. He longs for rough seas.
Calmness is his death. He must not be left to mull over himself, or
else you’ve lost him. Now I could see them uneasy, nervous and
sullen hang around in the galley. They wanted to occupy themselves
with something to eat.
Some
were sitting on the gunwales dangling their naked legs to and fro so
forcefully that you thought they wanted to unlock their joints.
Others, again, had embraced the mast and pitilessly pressed their
chests against it. A couple of them bowed over the rails looking at
the still waters and cursed spitting at the sea in high dudgeon. One
provoked the black ship dog to attack the cat and tear it apart.
The
leading seaman and two more sailors took to darning a sail at the
prow. The rest of the crew stood up, their hands crossed, pipes in
mouth, and looked up at the sails in desperation. What were they
looking at them for? The sails hung dead, sad and sleepy and cast
their shadows, mingled with those of the masts, the pulleys and the
yards, as far down as the spotlessly scrubbed deck.
Hungry
as I was, the chat with Manolios was a respite, so I went on teasing
him relentlessly.
“Is
she rich?”
“Oh,
filthy.”
“But
she babbles!”
“According
to her whims. Now she’s mute; but when she’s angry, she deafens
you.” And he went on smiling. But I
insisted.
“Can
she sing?”
“A
host of songs.”
“Is
she white, black, brunette, blue-eyed, what’s she like?”
“Blue-eyed.”
He
said the latter with great confidence; he fixed his eyes on the deaf
waves with such tenderness that I shuddered. No lover looks at her
sweetheart with such a desire. And that damned one – that is the
sea that was as thick as honey – suddenly started making some
crystal-rosy ripples and plashed here and there sprinkling
diamond-like dew, as if its substance crawled and promised him
eternal commitment.
“Just
fancy!”
I
silently touched Captain Tragoudas’s leg. But he kept relishing his
smoke with his amber-bowled pipe, his fez straight up on his head,
his loose breeches falling around his embroidered sash in pleats and
he looked as if he rested blissfully upon his riches. He did not give
a dime about the problems of poor and unfortunate people. He had
decided to be selfish, cruel and pitiless. When he had learned about
his brother’s-in-law wantonness, his sister’s distress and her
children’s hard life, he had not reached out to lend a helping
hand. Many were those who had gone to plead for his relatives’ need
and ask for his aid, but he turned a deaf ear to them.
“Each
is responsible for his own luck.” He would say. “Woe to those who
expect help from others! Woe to the cuckoo that lays his eggs in
another bird’s nest! It’s a fact that I made my fortune unaided
(not daring to admit that he had been the first example of a cuckoo).
I seized upon the occasion and made Goddess Luck my underling. Let
them do the same. They won’t get anything from me!”
As
I said all had gone and spoke to him, save one: Manolios. He was a
proud lad. He had approached his uncle only after his last sister’s
engagement. Not as family but asking work as a sailor. Captain
Tragoudas treated him as he did the rest of the crew. Nothing more;
in fact less than the others.
“I’d
better not let him take liberties,” he thought, “as he might take
advantage and shun work. And indolence may lead him straight to his
father’s path.”
Then
I addressed Manolios.
“Listen,
kid,” I said to him; “What the heck are you talking about?”
“I’m
dancing to your tune, Captain Vassili;” he replied. “What shall I
tell you? You’re suggesting I get married as if you’re asking me
to shoulder a burden; OK, I shouldered it; what then? Let me confess
to you something straight out as though you were my father. I don’t
feel like going on living any longer; I can’t tell you why – I
just don’t. You know I’ve been working since I was a kid. As long
as I had been committed to those girls, I wanted to live and work.
Not simply live; I dreaded losing suddenly my life and leaving behind
my sisters destitute in the pity and scorn of the world. I’ve
turned night into day. I’ve stuck to my duty though at times luck
was against me. But I also fought against it and I came out a winner.
I never intended to shrink back a jiffy. I was like a sturdy
steamship with her fire up, her boilers hot with steam so that no
seas and no wind dare hinder her course. And I had been like this
until two days ago when I got the last letter from Constantinople. As
soon as I read of Roussa’s wedding, my knees turned to water.
Either because of unhoped-for joy or God’s will, I felt something
light and warm leave my heart and I collapsed to the ground
senseless. Since then I’ve lost all desire either for work or life.
My uncle calls me a slacker and he’s right; I do understand he’s
right. But what can I do? I’ve come to the end of my struggle. I’ve
spent my fuel, the fire’s died out, the boilers have gone cold and
I’ve stalled. And it’s a wonder that I’ve come so far. Imagine
if I had broken down in the middle of the way, and left my sis
begrudging! Now my time has come, and I don’t give a dime. If only
the White Angel would come soon.”
And
he fixed his eyes at the sea again with an expression of a silent
desire as if he expected deliverance therefrom. And he was so serious
of speech, so gentle and soft-spoken that I believed that he did not
intend to convince me, but to lull himself. His suntanned face, his
big blue eyes, his downy whiskers and his curly hair lent him such
seriousness and candor that I could not help respecting him. I could
not dare to contradict him. Nothing on him manifested his despair, a
true mirror of his tormented soul. All was as calm as the sea that
seemed to be eavesdropping. His lips only writhed suddenly as though
his words came out of the bottom of his heart.
Finally
I made bold to tell him something and make him change his mind.
“Listen,
my child!”
No
sooner did I begin speaking than I saw Captain Tragoudas spring up in
alarm.
“At
your posts!” he yelled his orders. “Man the helm! Unfurl the
topsail! Up the foremast!”
The
sailors ran up and down in a craze. Joy shone in their eyes. Their
hands carried out the captain’s orders in a flash. Some worked on
the sheets, some on halyards and others on the cables. The sluggish
wood woke up at once and the ill-tempered Gorgo came alive.
“To
your boat, Captain Vassili,” Tragoudas turned to me; “to your
boat. The wind will blow us off. The meal can wait for the time when
meet again, God willing.”
It
started suddenly blowing from Karababa. It was raging and it roiled
and ruffled the sea from end to end. The cargo of logs that stood
safe for many days was snatched by the wind and scattered all over
the sea. Some logs were thrown on the beach, some were buried in the
port of Tenedos, some were blown along Sigri [Lesbos] and others were
washed towards Gozo Channel. Their destination was unexpectedly
changed as though Polyxena had been sacrificed and the hero left the
ships on Minerva’s decision to punish the sacrilegious Ajax.
[See
I
jumped into my boat and hasten to my brig. My mate had managed to
keep The
Taxiarchis hove
to, which I boarded quickly. We sailed before the wind in the wake of
Captain Tragoudas’s barquentine. There was a commotion on board his
ship. Sailors were running, boats were being lowered to the sea.
There was a babel of shouts as though suddenly the vessel were
sinking. The captain stood upright in the poop deck, without his fez,
flustered, was cursing and blaspheming, shaking his hands like a pair
of propellers.
I
steered along with difficulty and asked:
“Ahoy
ship! What’s happened? Do you need help?”
“Our
Manolios has drowned! He’s just vanished!” Captain Tragoudas
bemoaned.
The
tragedy thawed at once the ice of his heart… Poor child! He was
sent to draw water with the pail, stumbled on the rail, fell and
drowned. In vain did they plow the sea in search of him, but there
was no trace. The jealous water held him tight in its embrace
forever. Perhaps it kept its promise; who knows?
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