Chapter 1 We arrived in Amsterdam. It was a quiet July evening in 1948. I purposely have to indicate the year, so that you do not think that everything I have given is fiction, but more on that later.

So, Amsterdam, summer, evening, I stand at the side, leaning on the rail and look into the darkening waters together with the sky, in which, like in melted gold, the lights of the big city shimmer. A quiet evening brings sweet, alluring dreams, and an unfamiliar city promises a lot of interesting and exciting.

An hour later, the end of my watch and I will go ashore. But still a whole hour of quiet and a little sad loneliness on board the empty ship. A sigh involuntarily escapes from the chest, and for some reason, the words of a little song that a little nimble black woman sang in a port tavern on the island of Borneo come to mind:

- O mighty Bip!

- You are a source of joy

- And sweets.

- You're my idol.

One could easily guess what a bleep is, as the black woman twirled his rubber copy and carried out such manipulations that the young sailors were blushing and lowered their eyes. I remember Bombay with its wide streets, rich restaurants with dark-eyed cuties. True, nothing romantic happened to me in this city, except for a case that can be called tragic, but I don’t want to remember about it now - it’s hard. Thoughts and memories flow like a river, filling me with a joyful feeling of life, which seems to me to be a solid festive firework with such an insignificant number of dark spots that cannot be distinguished in a sea of ​​fire.

Frederick, wake up!

I woke up. In front of me was Max Bekkers, the second mate.

This is a change. Hooray! I am free.

Ten minutes later I was already running on a shaky ladder to the shore, on the move, buttoning the buttons of my jacket. I took a taxi and ordered to take myself to the ... bar. Ten more minutes and I enter the magnificent hall of the Hotel America, where the restaurant Super Suite is located. It is not easy to describe its luxury, which made this small restaurant the best in Amsterdam.

I was breathed a delicate scent of flowers, the gentle sounds of jazz enveloped stupefying bliss. Stepping softly along the thick carpet, a waiter approached me and led me to a table on which a mountain of flowers stood in a wide crystal vase. Without ordering anything, I sank into a chair, sent a waiter and looked around. At the buffet stands on hard stools were men and women. Some drank a cocktail. Women, with the exception of those who sat with men, searched the hall intently with their eyes.

I wanted to be alone and I did not respond to their eyes. To my right is a rich company. Two youths of 17 years old in a society of pretty lovely women, much older than they were, talked about something merrily and clapped louder than others when jazz was finished playing. Another two or three tables were occupied by couples, who were quite indiscreetly courteous, using half-shadows, and on the marble dance floor the same pair of elderly dancers were spinning all the time, writing out such antediluvian na that the entire audience in the hall watching this spectacle seemed to be present at the presentation. In general, it was boring. I left the waiter a dollar on the table and went out. On the street, I was picked up by a stream of people and, without resisting, swam down the stream. Gradually the streets became empty, the people went poorer and I found myself in one of the homely and quiet working-class neighborhoods. Not knowing where to go, I stopped in indecision. A man was riding a bicycle.

- Please tell me if there is a bar nearby?

The man stopped, looked at me and asked:

- Do you need a decent?

- No, I do not care.

“Then walk down this street,” he pointed to a dark, deserted alley to the right, “and turn the corner.” There is a bar for sailors.

- Thank.

I easily found the specified bar, above which hung the old sign "Sailor".In the short, long hall there was a lot of smoke and stuffy. To the right, along the entire wall, stood the buffet bar, and in the depths there was a small stage on which a blind musician sat and his music could hardly be discerned in the hubbub of drunken voices. There were many people. I hardly found an empty seat near an elderly, poorly dressed sailor who stared blankly and pointlessly into an empty rum bottle. In front of him lay cards in a shabby cellophane wrapper.

He did not pay any attention to me and continued to sit in the look of his drunk empty eyes there was something unhealthy and I was about to change to another place, when suddenly a sweet but rudely dressed girl in a cheap lilac dress came to our table.

- What are you sad boys? - she cried cheerfully, flashing black buttons of large pupils.

The strange man suddenly startled and, pushing away the frightened girl, shouted:

Get out, whore! There is no life from you! He cursed reluctantly and, without looking at the girl, said more quietly:

“You sucked all my blood!” Vampires! His face grimaced and he buried his face in his hands and lowered his head to the table.

Surprised and puzzled, I stayed in my place, hoping to find out in more detail what had happened to him, which had caused such hatred for women in him.

He sat for a long time without raising his head. Then suddenly he straightened up and thrust the cards at me:

- Take it. You are young, it will suit you. Just two dollars. Want to?

- What is it?

- Maps. See what beautiful women are - He bent over one of the cards, and I saw a blond beauty depicted on her with beautiful long legs, dressed in such a transparent fabric, through which, naturally, a delicate pink body, covered only with panties, shone through. It was the king of clubs. I involuntarily admired the beauty and tried to pick up another card.

- No, first tell me, take for two dollars?

- But I did not see the card.

- It does not matter. They cost more, take, do not lose.

I did not know what to answer, the cards were mediocre and already frayed around the edges. True, the middle where the women themselves were depicted, as I later became convinced, was absolutely pure. I did not want to buy them, because I did not play cards at all, I did not see any value in them. The man looked at me imploringly in the eyes and whispered softly:

- Well, take it, it costs you nothing. You are young, you still like women.

I shook my head negatively, and he grabbed my hand and, sticking my cards in my palm, muttered:

- Take it so nothing is needed, treat only with wine and we are even. I could not understand the perseverance with which the stranger tried to lend me a card. I wanted to ask him about it, but at that moment an ugly thick, passionately painted girl sat down at our table, and slamming me on the shoulder, she whispered drunkenly:

“Only ten dollars, captain, and a sea of ​​pleasure ...” she did not finish the phrase and rushed away from the table with a screech. My neighbor, terrible in anger and frenzy, jumped out from the table and rushed at the girl with a huge bottle of rum. Not catching up with her, he angrily whispered something, slapped the bottle on the floor, and returned to the table.

“Damn it,” he cursed, tipping the rest of the wine from his glass in his mouth, “the devil has spawned their heads.” Oh, how I hate them all ... Well, will you take cards? - he asked me evilly, hiding them in his pocket, - Well, don't. - he fumbled in his pockets, took out a few coins and, throwing them on the table, was about to leave.

Farewell, Captain, say hello to your mom. - He angrily shoved a girl running past, something muttered after her and with a heavy gait headed for the exit. Something incomprehensibly mysterious was in the behavior and actions of this strange man and I, unable to cope with curiosity, ...