Тайный сообщник
II
“Shewillweather,”Isaidtheninaquiettone.
“Areyougoingtotrythat,sir?”hestammeredoutincredulously.
Itooknonoticeofhimandraisedmytonejustenoughtobeheardbythehelmsman.
“Keephergoodfull.”
“Goodfull,sir.”
Thewindfannedmycheek,thesailsslept,theworldwassilent.Thestrainofwatchingthedarkloomofthelandgrowbiggeranddenserwastoomuchforme.Ihadshutmyeyes—becausetheshipmustgocloser.Shemust!Thestillnesswasintolerable.Werewestandingstill?
WhenIopenedmyeyesthesecondviewstartedmyheartwithathump.TheblacksouthernhillofKoh-ringseemedtohangrightovertheshiplikeatoweringfragmentofeverlastingnight.Onthatenormousmassofblacknesstherewasnotagleamtobeseen,notasoundtobeheard.Itwasglidingirresistiblytowardsusandyetseemedalreadywithinreachofthehand.Isawthevaguefiguresofthewatchgroupedinthewaist,gazinginawedsilence.
“Areyougoingon,sir?”inquiredanunsteadyvoiceatmyelbow.
Iignoredit.Ihadtogoon.
“Keepherfull.Don’tcheckherway.Thatwon’tdonow,”Isaidwarningly.
“Ican’tseethesailsverywell,”thehelmsmanansweredme,instrange,quaveringtones.
Wasshecloseenough?Alreadyshewas,Iwon’tsayintheshadowoftheland,butintheveryblacknessofit,alreadyswallowedupasitwere,gonetooclosetoberecalled,gonefrommealtogether.
“Givethemateacall,”Isaidtotheyoungmanwhostoodatmyelbowasstillasdeath.“Andturnallhandsup.
