Конец рабства
VIII
Thenarrow,longhull,carryingitswaywithoutaripple,seemedtoapproachtheshoalwaterofthebarbystealth.Theplungeoftheleadwiththemournful,mechanicalcryofthelascarcameatlongerandlongerintervals;andthemenonherbridgeseemedtoholdtheirbreath.TheMalayatthehelmlookedfixedlyatthecompasscard,theCaptainandtheSerangstaredatthecoast.
Massyhadlefttheskylight,and,walkingflat-footed,hadreturnedsoftlytotheveryspotonthebridgehehadoccupiedbefore.Aslow,lingeringgrinexposedhissetofbigwhiteteeth:theygleamedevenlyintheshadeoftheawninglikethekeyboardofapianoinaduskyroom.
Atlast,pretendingtotalktohimselfinexcessiveastonishment,hesaidnotveryloud—
“Stoptheenginesnow.Whatnext,Iwonder?”
Hewaited,stoopingfromtheshoulders,hisheadbowed,hisglanceoblique.Thenraisinghisvoiceashade—
“IfIdaredmakeanabsurdremarkIwouldsaythatyouhaven’tthestomachto...”
Butayellingspiritofexcitement,likesomefranticsoulwanderingunsuspectedinthevaststillnessofthecoast,hadseizeduponthebodyofthelascaratthelead.Thelanguidmonotonyofhissing-songchangedtoaswift,sharpclamor.Theweightflewafterasinglewhir,thelinewhistled,splashfollowedsplashinhaste.Thewaterhadshoaled,andtheman,insteadofthedrowsytaleoffathoms,wascallingoutthesoundingsinfeet.
“Fifteenfeet.Fifteen,fifteen!Fourteen,fourteen...”
CaptainWhalleyloweredthearmholdingtheglasses.
