Next day the boy said to his new father, "The Nightingale foretells that a storm is brewing which will break the masts and shatter the sails. You must go back to the haven."
But the master of the ship would not go. And a storm arose at once, and the masts were shattered, and the sails torn down. It was no good, what is ended cannot be mended, so new masts were built and new sails were rigged. And they sailed on further.
Again Vásya said, "The Nightingale sings that there are twelve ships coming to meet us, all pirate ships, and they will take us prisoner."
This time the master of the ship believed him, and returned to the island, and he saw the twelve bold pirates go sailing by. So the master of the ship waited as long as need be, and then sailed further.
Some time went by, not too much, not too little, and the ship arrived at the city of Khvalynsk; and, for very many years, in front of the palace of the King of Khvalynsk, a Crow, with his wife and child, had been flying and screeching, giving no rest either by day or night. Whatever they did, whatever gins they might set, they could not drive them off from the window. Small shot was not any good. And so that King ordained that at every cross-road and at all the harbours this notice should be exhibited:
"If any man can drive away the Crow, with his wife and child, from the royal windows, the King will grant him as a reward half of his kingdom, and his youngest daughter as wife—but if any shall undertake the work and shall not fulfil it he shall forfeit his head."
Very many were the hunters eager to become kinsmen of the King, and all of their heads had been hewn off and hung on stakes,
