Possibly an escape from the penalties of the law would have been less easy.
Our cook was an elderly personage, with thin hair, a yellow beard, and a much neglected toilet.

On the first morning I saw him at his ablutions, and was not altogether pleased with his manner.

He took a half-tumbler of water in his mouth and then squirted the fluid over his hands, rubbing them meanwhile with invisible soap.

He was quite skillful, but I could never relish his dinners if I had seen him any time within six hours.

His general appearance was that of having slept in a gutter without being shaken afterwards.
The day of our departure from Nicolayevsk was like the best of our Indian summer.