Конец рабства
XIII
What?Beginningagain?Hewishedhewouldn’t....
Butitwasevenso.Theimaginativedrunkardontheothersideofthebulkheadshookoffthedeathlikestillnessthatafterhislastwordshadfallenonthedarkshipmooredtoasilentshore.
“Don’tyoudaretosayanythingagainstGeorgeMassy,Esquire.Whenhe’stiredofwaitinghewilldoawaywithher.Lookout!Downshegoes—chumandall.He’llknowhowto...”
Thevoicehesitated,weary,dreamy,lost,asifdyingawayinavastopenspace.
“...Findatrickthatwillwork.He’suptoit—neverfear...”
Hemusthavebeenverydrunk,foratlasttheheavysleepgrippedhimwiththesuddennessofamagicspell,andthelastwordlengtheneditselfintoaninterminable,noisy,in-drawnsnore.Andtheneventhesnoringstopped,andallwasstill.
ButitseemedasthoughMr.Massyhadsuddenlycometodoubttheefficacyofsleepasagainstaman’stroubles;orperhapshehadfoundthereliefheneededinthestillnessofacalmcontemplationthatmaycontainthevividthoughtsofwealth,ofastrokeofluck,oflongidleness,andmaybringbeforeyoutheimaginedformofeverydesire;for,turningaboutandthrowinghisarmsovertheedgeofhisbunk,hestoodtherewithhisfeetonhisfavoriteoldcoat,lookingoutthroughtheroundportintothenightovertheriver.Sometimesabreathofwindwouldenterandtouchhisface,acoolbreathchargedwiththedamp,freshfeelfromavastbodyofwater
