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cabin passengers of both sexes, and among them, even a baroness. Let the reader not be surprised by such an abundance of intelligent people here, in the wilderness. Along the Amur and in the Primorsky region, the intelligentsia, with a small general population, constitutes a not insignificant percentage, and it is relatively larger here than in any Russian province. On the Amur, there is a city where there are 16 generals alone, military and civilian. Now, perhaps, there are even more of them there.
The day was quiet and clear. On deck, it was hot; in the cabins, stuffy; the water temperature was +18°C. Such weather would suit even the Black Sea. On the right bank, the forest was burning; a solid green mass was throwing out crimson flames; clouds of smoke merged into a long, black, motionless strip that hung over the forest... The fire was enormous, but all around was silence and calm; no one cared that the forests were dying. Obviously, the green wealth here belongs only to God.
After dinner, around six o'clock, we were already at Cape Pronge. Here Asia ends, and one could say that at this place the Amur flows into the Great Ocean, were it not for Sakhalin Island standing across the way. Before my eyes, the Liman spreads out widely; in front, a foggy strip is barely visible—that is the penal island; to the left, losing itself in its own curves, the shore disappears into the mist, receding into the unknown north. It seems that this is the end of the world and that there is nowhere left to sail. The soul is seized by a feeling that, in all likelihood, Odysseus experienced when he sailed the unfamiliar sea and vaguely anticipated encounters with extraordinary creatures. And indeed, to the right, at the very turn into the Liman, where a Gilyak village has nestled on the shoal, some strange creatures are rushing toward us in two boats, shouting in an incomprehensible language and waving something. It is difficult to understand what they have in their hands, but when they pull closer, I distinguish gray birds.