Two Captains

Two Captains

Language: English

Pages: 676

ISBN: 1410103285

Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub


Two Captains is the most renowned novel of the Russian writer Veniamin Kaverin. The plot spans from 1912 to 1944. For more than half a century the book has been loved by children and adults alike. The novel has undergone more than 100 printings, including translations into other languages. Based on its story, plays have been staged and an opera has been written. The plot of the book also became the basis of two movies of the same title in 1955 and 1976. In 1995 in Pskov, the home town of the author, a monument was erected to the characters of the book and a "Two Captains" museum was opened. The real prototype for Captain Tatarinov was Lieutenant Georgii Brusilov, who in 1912 organized a privately funded expedition seeking a west-to-east Northern sea route. The steamship "St. Anna," specially built for the expedition, left Petersburg on 28 July 1912. Near the shores of Yamal peninsula it was seized by ice and carried in the ice drift to the north of the Kara Sea. The expedition survived two hard winters. Of the 14 people who left the stranded steamship in 1914, only two made it to one of the islands of Frants-Joseph Land and were spotted and taken aboard "St. Foka", the ship of the expedition of G. Y. Sedov. The ship log they had kept with them contained the most important of the scientific data, after the study of which Sedov's expedition found the previously unknown island in the Kara Sea, Vize Island. The ultimate fate of "St.Anna" and its remaining crew is still unknown. Veniamin Kaverin (1902-1989) wrote novels, short stories, fairy tales, memoirs, and biographies. In the early 1920s, Veniamin Kaverin was a member of experimental literary group "Serapionovi bratya". In 1946 his novel Two Captains became the winner of the USSR State Literature Award.

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Two Captains

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Where had he gone? Ivan Ivanovich! He had vanished, gone without saying a word to anyone! CHAPTER SIX FATHER 'S DEATH. I REFUSE TO SPEAK All through the winter I practised speaking. First thing in the morning, barely awake, I uttered loudly six words which Ivan Ivanovich had instructed me to say every day: "hen", "saddle", "box", "snow", "drink" and "Abraham". How difficult it was! And how well, how differently my sister pronounced these words. But I kept at it. I repeated

Everything was fine! This happiness of his, this success, showed so clearly in his face, in his every gesture, even in the way he ate. His eyes shone, he sat erect and at the same time at his ease. If I were not already in love with him I would certainly have fallen in love with him that evening. We sat eating and drinking for God knows how long, then we went for a walk after I had mentioned that I hadn't yet seen the sights of Leningrad. Sanya was all eagerness to show me himself "what kind of

shoulders" (he pointed out the place). "There's another matter, no less important. These gates, which the Germans are trying to close," he said briskly, covering the outlet from the Barents Sea into the Kara Sea with his hand, "because they understand perfectly well how important the X. mines are for aircraft engine industry. And, of course, they don't like the idea of our having so valuable a means of transit as the Northern Sea Route, especially as they were already hoping this spring-" He did

kicked the bucket there." We put on our coats and started down the stairs, talking away all the time. And here a very strange encounter took place. On the landing outside the geography room stood a woman in a coat with a squirrel collar. She was standing by the banisters looking down the well of the staircase-for a moment I thought she was going to throw herself down the well, because she swayed by the banisters with her eyes closed. We must have frightened her, and she moved uncertainly

slowly round before me and I could now see its other, hidden side. "I love Ensk. It's wonderful there. Such gardens!" It had been pleasant to her to recall her youth at that moment. She was taking farewell, as it were, of her hometown-now that she had made her decision. "Montigomo Hawk's Claw - I used to call him that." Her voice had shaken, because nobody else knew she had called him that, and so it was undeniable proof that I had remembered the words right. "I haven't spoken to him about

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