tops’l gallants, settling conformably with the direction of the wind
Newnin: Your excellency, the host begs you to speak of something else. The guests don’t understand all this, and it’s dull.
Revunov-Karayúlov: What? Who’s dull? (To Mozgovy.) Young man, suppose the vessel is lying by the wind, on the starboard course, under full stretch of canvas, and you have to bring her over before the wind? What orders must you give? Why, this: Whistle all hands on deck for a tack across before the wind. Hee, hee!
Newnin: Yes, yes! Take something to eat.
Revunov-Karayúlov: Just as they all come running out, at once you give the command: “Stand to stations for a tack across before the wind!” Ah! That’s life! You give the order and watch how the sailors, like lightning, run to their places and adjust the lashings and the halliards. You finish by shouting out, “Bravo, my fine fellows.” (Shouts and chokes.)
Master of Ceremonies (hastens to take advantage of the probable pause): On this day, to-day, so to speak, on which we are collected together here to do honour to our beloved
