Chapter X begins by immersing readers in the final hours of Gusev’s journey, where the ocean air hangs heavy and the motion of the ship is steady but unrelenting. His weakened body remains confined below deck, barely touched by the outside world, his mind flickering between lucidity and hallucination. Fever blurs his perception, yet in his thoughts, he returns home, seeing glimpses of familiar faces and the comforts of his former life. These mental images, however, are soon interrupted by aching bones and a tightening chest. Around him, the ship continues its route as if unaware of his suffering, the crew distant and routine-driven. The indifference of the ocean becomes a mirror to Gusev’s fading consciousness, emphasizing how quietly a person can slip from life into death. His body, fragile and barely responsive, begins to surrender, inching toward a release that now feels inevitable.

Within Gusev’s mind, memories blend with dreamlike sensations that capture a longing for warmth and escape. The image of a steam bath turns surreal, wrapping him in imagined heat while real chills run through him. He dreams of floating in a cloud of soft mist, not realizing that his body is fading even as his spirit tries to linger in comforting illusions. These final hallucinations serve as a gentle contrast to the harsh environment of the ship’s hold—tight, cold, and metallic. Gusev’s desire to be home, wrapped in familial love and sunlight, is unmet, yet his mind finds comfort in simulated warmth. Meanwhile, preparations begin above for his burial, highlighting the divide between the inner world of memory and the stark reality outside. The sailors’ actions are mechanical, respectful but detached, as they stitch his body into sailcloth and add weights to ensure he sinks into the sea.

The burial at sea is executed with a sense of solemn duty rather than emotional attachment. Officers and sailors line up as the sun rises, casting gold across the ocean while Gusev’s body lies still at their feet. The sailcloth stretches taut around his form, giving him the shape of a bulky sack, an image that strips away individual identity and underscores the raw simplicity of death. Yet the collective pause, the silence before his body is released, creates a rare moment of unity aboard the ship. The contrast between the mechanical precision of the ceremony and the natural chaos of the sea speaks to a human need to preserve dignity, even when life is reduced to ritual. When the body is tipped overboard, it splashes into the deep, vanishing beneath the waves that roll on, unmoved. The sea swallows Gusev, erasing his presence while continuing to move, vast and unfeeling.

The story doesn’t end with the people but follows Gusev’s body beneath the surface. Fish dart around the cloth, curious, while rays of sunlight scatter through the water like golden spears. Nature observes without judgment, wrapping the remains in an otherworldly beauty that contrasts the ship’s cold practicality. Coral and color swirl in quiet ballet, suggesting that life in its many forms continues even in death. The sea, though indifferent to Gusev’s identity, offers a kind of final resting beauty, untouched by human drama. It’s in this marine stillness that the narrative lands its final note—not in the grief of others, but in the calm acceptance of the natural world. Death, while inevitable and often lonely, is also just another part of the ocean’s endless rhythm.

By paralleling the inner peace Gusev seemed to seek with the ocean’s silent acceptance, the story elevates his ending from tragedy to something more contemplative. In a world where so much is beyond control, where families are left behind and legacies forgotten, it is in these moments of serene surrender that meaning flickers through. Gusev’s final journey reflects not just a physical decline but the deeply human wish to matter, to be remembered, and to meet death with dignity, even if it comes quietly. Through Chekhov’s lens, even the smallest life can ripple against the vast surface of the sea, not to disturb it, but to become part of its endless, indifferent beauty.