The Sailors have Questions

"The sailor waddled ashore ..." The Russian northern river slowly carried its cold waters along the coast ... On the bank, in the thickets of dim northern vegetation, someone's back was white ... The backside slowly rose and fell with constant amplitude and frequency. "What is it doing there?" - village boys puzzled, lying in the bushes on the opposite bank. “Duc, it’s someone who’s fighting,” the eldest realized and ... turned out to be 100% right!