The Englishmen took charge of the left-handed man, but sent the Russian Courier back to Russia. Although the Courier had a rank[33] and was skilled in divers languages, they took no interest in him, but they did find the left-handed man interesting, and set about taking him everywhere and showing him everything.

He inspected all their products, and their metal foundries, and their soap and saw-mills, and all their domestic arrangements pleased him exceedingly, especially those pertaining to the maintenance of the workingman. Every laborer among them is always well fed, clothed not in rags but each in a capable every-day waistcoat, and shod with stout boots with iron caps, so that their feet might never receive any shock from anything. And they work not at haphazard but after training, and understand their business. In front of every one of them hangs a multiplication table, and close by his hand is an erasing-board;[34] whenever an artisan does anything, he looks at the multiplication table, and verifies it with surety, and then writes down one thing on the board and erases another, and brings it into accuracy: what is written in figures turns out just so in fact. And when a holiday comes, they assemble in pairs, each takes a slender rod in his hand, and they go off to enjoy themselves in honorably dignified fashion, as is fitting.

The left-handed man gazed his fill at their manner of life and all their labors, but devoted most attention of all to one object which caused the Englishmen great amazement. He was not so much absorbed in their manner of making new guns as in the condition of the old ones. He kept going about and uttering praises, and saying: "And this, also, we can do." But when he came across an old gun, he would thrust his finger into the barrel, draw it along the walls, and sigh; "This," says he, "is incomparably finer than ours."

The Englishmen could by no means divine what it was that the left-handed man was commenting upon, but he inquired: "Cannot I find out whether our Generals ever beheld this or not?"

They say to him: "Some of them have been over here, and they must have seen it."

"But how were they," says he, "with gloves or without gloves?"

"Your Generals," say they, "are always in full dress; they always go about in gloves, and, of course, they did so here, also."

The left-handed man said nothing, but all at once he began to get uneasy and bored. He pined, and pined, and said to the Englishmen: "I thank you sincerely for all your hospitality, and I am very content here with you, and all that it was necessary for me to see I have seen, and now I desire to return home as speedily as possible."

They could by no means detain him longer. It was impossible to let him go home by land, because he did not know all the languages, and it was not good to sail upon the sea, because it was the autumn season, and stormy; but he insisted: "Let me go."

"We have looked at the buremeter,"[35] they said. "There is going to be a storm—you may be drowned: for this is not like your Gulf of Finland, but this is the regular Dryland Sea."[36]

"That makes no difference," he replied: "'t is all the same to me where I die; God's will be done. But I desire to return to my native land as speedily as may be, because otherwise I may acquire a sort of madness."

They did not detain him by force; they crammed him with food, rewarded him with money, gave him gifts to remember them by—a golden watch with a repeater[37]—and against the sea chill on his late autumn road they gave him a frieze great-coat, with a weather-hood for his head. They clothed the left-handed man very warmly, and conducted him to a ship which was due to sail for Russia. There they installed the left-handed man in the very best manner, like a real gentleman; but he did not like it, and was ashamed to sit shut up with the other gentle-folk; so he went off to the deck, sat down under the tarpaulin, and asked: "Where is our Russia?"

The Englishman whom he asked pointed or nodded his head in the right direction, and he turned his face thither and gazed impatiently towards his native land.

When they emerged from the harbor into the Dryland Sea, his longing for Russia became so great that it was impossible to soothe him in any way whatever. The dash of the waves became terrible, but still the left-handed man would not go below to the cabin—he sat there under the tarpaulin, pulled up his hood, and gazed towards his Fatherland. Many times did the Englishmen approach to invite him to come below to a warm place; but he, in order that they might not annoy him, even began to fend them off by means of a lie.

"No," he answered, "I feel better outside—but under cover the rolling of the ship gives me porpoises."

Thus he never went below the whole time, until a certain occasion, and thereby greatly pleased a certain half-skipper,[38] who, to the misfortune of our left-handed man, was able to speak Russian. This half-skipper could never overcome his amazement that a Russian landlubber could so withstand all rough weather.

"Fine fellow!" says he. "Russian—let's have a drink!" The left-handed man drank. And the half-skipper says: "Again!"

So the left-handed man drank once more, and they became tipsy.

And the half-skipper questions him: "What secret are you carrying from our kingdom to Russia?"

The left-handed man replies: "That is my affair."

"If that is so," replies the half-skipper, "then let's make a bet after the English fashion."

The left-handed man asks: "What sort of a bet?"

"This sort: That neither of us shall drink anything alone, but always together, evenly; what one drinks, that the other also must drink, without fail, and the one who outdrinks the other wins."

The left-handed man reflects: "The sky is clouded, my belly is swelling; I am greatly bored; the way is long, and my native land is not visible beyond the waves; 't will be more merry to make this wager."

"Good," says he; "done!"

"Only, it must be on honor."

"Don't bother yourself on that score."

So they agreed, and shook hands on it.

[33] Evidently, an Imperial Messenger.