Конец рабства

XI

           Sterne—hehadnotyetgivenupthedesireandthehopeofinducingthathatedoldmantostay.Why!therewasnothingelsetodo,unlessheweretoabandonhischancesoffortune.Butnow,suddenly,sincethecrossingofthebaratBatuBeruthingsseemedtobecomingrapidlytoapoint.Itdisquietedhimsomuchthatthestudyofthewinningnumbersfailedtosoothehisagitation:andthetwilightinthecabindeepened,verysomber.

           Heputthelistaway,mutteringoncemore,“Oh,no,myboy,youdon’t.NotifIknowit.”Hedidnotmeantheblinking,eavesdroppinghumbugtoforcehisaction.Hetookhisheadagainintohishands;hisimmobilityconfinedinthedarknessofthisshut-uplittleplaceseemedtomakehimathingapartinfinitelyremovedfromthestirandthesoundsofthedeck.

           Heheardthem:thepassengerswerebeginningtojabberexcitedly;somebodydraggedaheavyboxpasthisdoor.HeheardCaptainWhalley’svoiceabove—

           “Stations,Mr.Sterne.”Andtheanswerfromsomewhereondeckforward—

           “Ay,ay,sir.”

           “Weshallmoorheadupstreamthistime;theebbhasmade.”

           “Headupstream,sir.”

           “Youwillseetoit,Mr.Sterne.”

           Theanswerwascoveredbytheautocraticclangontheengine-roomgong.Thepropellerwentonbeatingslowly:one,two,three;one,two,three—withpausesasifhesitatingontheturn.Thegongclangedtimeaftertime,andthewaterchurnedthiswayandthatbythebladeswasmakingagreatnoisycommotionalongside.Mr.Massydidnotmove.

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