Дэвид Копперфильд

The Emigrants

           

           Mr.Peggottywaswaitingforusondeck.HetoldmethatMr.Micawberhadjustnowbeenarrestedagain(andforthelasttime)atthesuitofHeep,andthat,incompliancewitharequestIhadmadetohim,hehadpaidthemoney,whichIrepaidhim.Hethentookusdownbetweendecks;andthere,anylingeringfearsIhadofhishavingheardanyrumoursofwhathadhappened,weredispelledbyMr.Micawber’scomingoutofthegloom,takinghisarmwithanairoffriendshipandprotection,andtellingmethattheyhadscarcelybeenasunderforamoment,sincethenightbeforelast.

           Itwassuchastrangescenetome,andsoconfinedanddark,that,atfirst,Icouldmakeouthardlyanything;but,bydegrees,itcleared,asmyeyesbecamemoreaccustomedtothegloom,andIseemedtostandinapicturebyOSTADE.Amongthegreatbeams,bulks,andringboltsoftheship,andtheemigrant-berths,andchests,andbundles,andbarrels,andheapsofmiscellaneousbaggage‘lightedup,hereandthere,bydanglinglanterns;andelsewherebytheyellowdaylightstrayingdownawindsailorahatchwaywerecrowdedgroupsofpeople,makingnewfriendships,takingleaveofoneanother,talking,laughing,crying,eatinganddrinking;some,alreadysettleddownintothepossessionoftheirfewfeetofspace,withtheirlittlehouseholdsarranged,andtinychildrenestablishedonstools,orindwarfelbow-chairs;others,despairingofaresting-place,andwanderingdisconsolately.

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