Спрут: Калифорнийская история
Chapter IX
Thescenewasbrisk;thecranescreakedandswungincessantlywitharattleofchains;stevedoresandwharfingerstoiledandperspired;boatswainsanddock-mastersshoutedorders,draysrumbled,thewaterlappedatthepiles;agroupofsailors,paintingtheflanksofoneofthegreatships,raisedanoccasionalchanty;thetradewindsangaeolianinthecordages,fillingtheairwiththenimbletaintofsalt.Allaroundwerethenoisesofshipsandthefeelandflavorofthesea.
S.Behrmansoondiscoveredhiselevator.Itwasthelargeststructurediscernible,anduponitsredroof,inenormouswhiteletters,washisownname.Thither,betweenpilesofgrainbags,halteddrays,cratesandboxesofmerchandise,withanoccasionalpyramidofsalmoncases,S.Behrmantookhisway.Cabledtothedock,closeunderhiselevator,layagreatshipwithloftymastsandgreatspars.Hersternwastowardhimasheapproached,anduponit,inraisedgoldenletters,hecouldreadthewords“Swanhilda—Liverpool.”
Hewentaboardbyaverysteepgangwayandfoundthemateonthequarterdeck.S.Behrmanintroducedhimself.
“Well,”headded,“howareyougettingon?”
“Veryfairly,sir,”returnedthemate,whowasanEnglishman.“We’llhaveherallsnuggeddowntightbythistime,dayafterto-morrow.It’sagreatsavingoftimeshuntingthestuffinherlikethat,andthreemencandotheworkofseven.”
“I’llhavealook’round,Ibelieve,”returnedS.Behrman.
“Right—oh,”answeredthematewithanod.
S.Behrmanwentforwardtothehatchthatopeneddownintothevastholdoftheship.
