Потерянный континент: история Атлантиды
12. The Drug Of Our Lady The Moon
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Shehadotherthingstosayuponthematter,butatthispointIsawtwoclumsyboatsoffisherspaddlingtousfromovertheripples,andatthesametimeamongstthenarrowlaneswhichledbetweenthehousesontheothersideofus,savage-facedmenwerebeginningtorunafterthelitterinthreateningclusters.
“Withpermission,”Isaid,“Iwillstepoutoftheconveyanceandscatterthisrabble.”
“Oh,thepeoplealwaysclusterroundme.Pooruglysouls,theyseemtotakeastrangedelightincomingtostareatmyprettylooks.Butscatterthem.IhavesaidIdidnotwishtobefollowed.Iamtakingholidaynow,Deucalion,amInot,whilstyoulearntowoome?”
Isteppedtotheground.Theroughfishersintheboatswerebeginningtoshouttothosewhododgedamongstthehousestoseetoitthatwedidnotescape,andthenumberswhohemmedusinontheshoresidewereincreasingeverymoment.Theprospectwasunpleasantenough.Wehadcomeoutbeyondthemerchants’quarters,andwerelevelwiththosesmallhutsofmudandgrasswhichthefishingpopulationdeemsufficientforshelter,andwhichhasalwaysbeenaspotwhereturbulencemightbeexpected.Indeed,eveninthosedaysofpeaceandgoodgovernmentintheoldKing’stime,thispartofthecityhadrarelybeenwithoutitsweeklyriot.
Thelifeofthefishermanisthemosthardthatanyhumantoilershavetoendure.
